Higher Ground
by MaverickLover2
Summary: Still running from outlaws that believe he has their stolen money, Bart and Bret head for a safer place to hide – and get trapped in a town they never expected to stay in.
1. Still Running

Chapter 1 – Still Running

I was still in pain a week after the beatings stopped. That's what happens when you have a professional thug do his best to extract information from you. Somehow it's even worse when you keep telling him the truth and he doesn't believe you.

It was just by some lucky twist-of-fate that I got away from Jed and his dim-witted partner Dickie, and trust me, I ran like the devil was after me. Well, maybe not the devil himself, but two of his trusted goons. They worked for the devil, who went by the name of Everett Richards. Before I ran for my life I managed to send a cryptic, four-word telegram to my brother, Bret, literally begging for his help _. 'Reward. Outlaws. Fayetteville. Jamison.'_ See, cryptic?

We'd been sending economically worded telegrams back and forth to each other for so long that he'd know exactly what I meant. I'd managed to get my hands on the money the gang stole from the bank in Shreveport and lit out with it, fully intending to turn it over to the marshal and his posse for the reward that I was sure Wells Fargo had already offered. Unfortunately, the gang wanted 'their' money back. I was headed to Fayetteville, Arkansas to try and recover from Jed and Dickie's powers of persuasion, and I wanted my brother Bret to meet me there. Oh yeah, I'm Bart Maverick. My brother's named Bret. He's a little older than me, and sometimes a bit smarter. Not always, but sometimes.

So I ran as far towards Fayetteville as I could get before I had to stop in some town named Placerville. I was tired and hurt and hungry, and looked like hell (courtesy of the aforementioned Dickie and Jed) and I found a little boarding house and slept for four days. No, really, four days. Long enough so that my face wasn't near as swollen and purple as it had been at first, and I began to resemble the man I used to be. I thought it might be nice if my brother recognized me when he got to Fayetteville.

How did I know he was gonna meet me there? Well, see, he's Bret Maverick. That's the only answer I've got for you. There was only one time I ever sent for him that he didn't come, and because of that I got married. He won't do that again.

So on the fifth day of my stay in Placerville I just happened to be looking out the window in my room when I saw something that chilled me to the bone. Two people I knew all too well – Dickie and Jed, riding down the street looking every which way for the horse I stole from 'em when I made my escape. Fortunately for me I'd traded him to a rancher about fifty miles back for a sweet little mare that they wouldn't recognize. Unfortunately they still had my gelding, Noble, trailing behind them. He wasn't about to let either one of 'em ride him, but the horse had a mind of his own and a particular affinity for me, so they probably figured if they brought him along it'd be a wee-bit easier to track me down.

I did my best to stay outta sight while they rode past the boarding house. They stopped in front of 'Jessie's Watering Hole' and tied all three horses out front before disappearing inside. If they were checking to see if I'd been inside they were outta luck – like I said before, I slept for four days. When they didn't come right back out, I figured they'd decided to partake of the particular blend of Kentucky whiskey that the little saloon sold. Two hours later they were still partaking, and Noble was outside getting bored. Craziest damn horse I've ever seen, but he was definitely fond of me. I opened the window and whistled and his head came up and he tugged on his reins, wrapped around the hitching rail in front of him, until he'd worked them loose. Once that was accomplished, he walked himself over to the boarding house and stood there looking up at me.

"Hang on, old man, I'm comin'," I said out loud, and grabbed my never-unpacked war bag with all my belongings in it. I went down the back staircase and around the alley that led to the street and whistled again. Sure enough, Noble came trotting down the alley and followed me around the corner, where he gave me one of his 'bout time you showed up' looks. I threw the war bag across the saddle and pulled myself up on him, still not in the best of shape, and headed north. I hated leaving the little mare there, but two horses I didn't need and Noble can be the jealous sort.

I wondered how long it would be before Jed and Dickie discovered their tracking party was now one horse short, and we hurried right along until almost dark. By that time I couldn't sit in the saddle any longer and found a small mountain range with an abundance of caves. "Pick one, Noble," I told him, and he investigated two or three until he found one he liked. The entrance was obscured by a stand of trees and we went far enough inside to not be easily seen.

There was a sharp right turn in the cave and that's where I made a small fire and some coffee. I didn't have any food, but did have some jerky in the war bag and was happy to share it with my horse. It's not his favorite, but it beats eating nothing at all. "Let's see if we can catch a couple hours sleep, huh?" I asked him and he snorted and nodded. In no time I was asleep and I hope he was, too.

Around four in the morning I woke. It was still dark outside and I thought maybe we should get going, so I drank what was left of the coffee and saddled Noble before putting the fire out and trying to hide any trace of it. Just being cautious, in case my two pursuers should be smarter than I gave them credit for being. Probably a slim chance of that, but I'd rather be safe and alive. There was no doubt in my mind that if they found me again somebody would end up shoveling dirt on top of my cold carcass. I had no desire to end up as buzzard bait, thank you.

We headed out again and kept going until we got to the next town, named Alma, and I finally stopped to buy provisions and get Noble fed. He was much happier after that, and so was I. It took us two more days to get to Fayetteville and we were both tired of sleeping on the road and running by the time we got there. It had been over a week since I'd sent Bret the telegram and I was hoping he'd gotten there ahead of me.

For once my luck held. After taking Noble to the livery and paying extra to have him kept in a private stall, I found myself back at the hotel. There was a Mr. Breton Joseph in room 205 and I breathed a sigh of relief. I knocked softly on the door and was met with a "Yes?" from inside the room in a very familiar voice.

"Room service, Mr. Joseph," I answered; the door was opened cautiously and I found the barrel of a Remington Colt motioning me inside. As soon as I got in the door closed and Bret put the gun back in its holster.

"Bart, what in the hell happened to you?" he asked, grabbing me in a bear hug that I couldn't have broken free of if I'd wanted to.

"This? Oh, you shoulda seen it a week ago. At least it's not green and purple anymore."

"Seriously, son, let me take a look at ya," he told me as he reached up and turned my head from side to side. "Who did this?" I've heard Bret mad before, but his tone was downright hostile.

"A coupla good ole boys named Dickie and Jed," I answered. "Last time I saw them they were holdin' my horse hostage, tryin' to track me down. They're probably somewhere on my tail, still."

"The outlaws that robbed the bank?" he asked me as he kept giving me the once-over.

"Two of 'em. There's five altogether. They're part a the Richards gang."

"Everett Richards?"

"That'd be him," I told Bret. "Now you know why I'm runnin'."

"How'd you get into this?"

"Pure luck. They robbed the Wells Fargo in Shreveport and hid the bags. I happened to find 'em. I was gonna turn 'em in to the marshal, but him and the posse were already out after Everett's bunch. I went looklin' for 'em and found the gang instead. They were chasin' me while the posse was chasin' them. I finally double-backed and found the marshal – turned in the money bags and thought that was the end a that. Till Dickie an Jed showed up and wanted to know where the money was. They didn't believe I'd turned it in and did their best to talk me into tellin' 'em what I really did with it." I had to pause to catch my breath. "They got sloppy an I got away from 'em. They been chasin' me since."

"So that's Dickie an Jed's handiwork?" There was still anger in his voice, but he was a lot calmer than he'd been before.

"Mostly Dickie's. Jed described some other things to me that didn't sound like a lot a fun; when I had the chance to get away I took it."

"They still after ya?" For the first time since I got there I took a good look at my brother. His eyes were rimmed in red; He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. And he was thin – unusually thin for him. Almost Bart Maverick thin. Something told me there'd been a bad breakup with Althea Taylor in his immediate past.

"Probably. Sorry to bring ya into such a mess." I was sitting on his bed; he was standing over by the window. When he turned around to face me for just a second I could see the pain in his eyes and I knew my hunch was correct, but I had to be sure. "How's Althea?" I asked brightly.

His eyes got black and he looked like somebody had taken his puppy. "She's gonna marry Simon Petry."

"What?"

He changed the subject quickly. "When'd you eat last?"

"Uh, last night."

"Come on, we'll go get somethin' in the dinin' room. They got a private room we can eat in. Besides, they're just lookin' for you, not you an me. I'll tell ya about everything over supper."

Before I could say anything my stomach growled. Loudly. "There's yer answer," I told him, and picked his hat up off the bed. I put it on and pulled it down low over my face. Bret nodded and took mine. He set it on the back of his head, and it was obvious that he wasn't Bart Maverick.

"Lead the way, Mr. Jamison."


	2. Soft Pursuit

Chapter 2 – Soft Pursuit

We went down to the dining room and Bret requested the private room, which we got. It was a nice change to eat a meal and not worry about somebody seeing me. Coffee and steak and potatoes, and I was hungry enough to even eat some dessert. Bret, for once, seemed to have little or no appetite. He picked at his food and spent most of the meal just pushing it around his plate. After he explained everything that had gone on with Pappy and Althea, I understood why.

"So Pappy's just about back to normal?"

"Yeah," Bret answered, "but we almost lost him, Bart. And it was all my fault."

"Bret, there's one thing I've learned over the years when it comes to our father – nothing is ever all somebody else's fault. Somewhere, somehow, Pappy always has a hand in it."

He thought about that for a minute and brightened just a little. "Yeah, you're right. He wouldn't back off, no matter how many times I asked him to. And he just kept pushin'."

"There is one thing I gotta tell ya, though – I'd a given a lot a money to see you drunk."

I finally got a laugh out of him. "Yeah, it wasn't a pretty sight."

"Don't I know that. Down in Mexico – well, let's just say I had enough a those nights. And days."

He looked at me like he wanted to ask something, but he hesitated for a long time.

"Well, what is it?" I finally inquired. "I can't answer your question if you don't ask it."

"I got your note – the one you left in Momma's Bible. There's somethin' – did you really think about . . . tryin' to . . . . kill yourself down there?"

I picked up my coffee cup. It had taken a lot for me to admit that in the note I left for him, but it had taken a lot for him to ask me about it just now. So I finally gave him an answer. "Yeah, I did. I couldn't shake it, Bret. No matter what I did, how much I won at poker or how drunk I stayed – I couldn't shake the feeling that I shoulda died instead a her. One night I was so drunk that dyin' seemed like the right thing to do. And my gun misfired. That's the night I slept in the barn with my horse."

His voice was soft and low. "Why didn't you tell me?"

That was the question I was afraid he was gonna ask. I swallowed what little pride I still had and answered him. "Because I was ashamed. I couldn't tell anybody, especially you. What if . . . . what if you decided you were ashamed a me, too?"

"I could never be ashamed a you . . . . . you're my brother."

Lest we get too maudlin, I slapped him on the shoulder. "Let's get outta here, huh? I could use some sleep in a real bed."

"Alright. Tomorrow mornin' we gotta figure out what to do about Jed and Dickie . . . . and Everett Richards."

"Sounds like a plan," I told him.

XXXXXXXX

I was awake before dawn, wondering if Dickie and Jed were still chasing me, and if they were, how far behind me they might be. I got dressed and went down to the telegraph office and sent a wire to the marshal in Shreveport asking what he'd learned about the reward and the gang. I told him to wire me in Sioux Falls; I figured that was the best place to head right now. I didn't think the goons would follow me all the way up there; at least I was hoping they wouldn't. I had just turned the corner, headed back to Bret's hotel room, when I saw two familiar figures at the far end of the street, just now riding into town.

I ducked into a doorway and stayed there in the dark until they'd ridden past me. As quick as I could I hurried back to room 205 and wasted no time waking Bret. "They're here," I told him, and he immediately got up and got dressed.

'Where's Noble?" he asked me when he was almost ready to go.

"In a private stall in the livery."

"Alright, I'll go get the horses and meet you at the back door in fifteen minutes. And stay outta sight."

I winced. "Don't hafta tell me twice."

I waited until he'd been gone a few minutes and grabbed his war bag and mine. Unfortunately, I'd had enough practice at sneaking out the back door of hotels, and had no trouble finding my way down the stairs. In just a couple of minutes Bret appeared, riding a rather impressive looking black stallion and leading a disgruntled looking Noble.

"What'd you do to this horse?" Bret asked as I tossed him his bag and swung mine up across the saddle.

"Nothin'. Why?"

He kind of chuckled, softly. "He almost acted glad to see me."

"Dickie and Jed had him for a week. He's probably happy to see anybody that ain't those two."

"Sure was a nice change. Follow me, there's a back way outta town." Without any further warning Bret swung the stallion back the way he'd come. For the next few minutes we wound in and out of buildings, until we finally came out about two miles further up the road that ran north. "Kansas City?"

"Yep," I answered. "Sounds good. Wired Shreveport and told 'em I'd be in Sioux Falls. Alright by you?"

"Brrrr," was the only thing Bret said. I took that to mean 'yes.'

We rode, silently for the most part, as fast as we could safely push the horses. About fifteen miles north we ran into a little place named Bentonville. It wasn't much bigger than some of the small towns I'd found down in Mexico, but it had a café and a general store. It met all my requirements.

We bought supplies at the store and then hurried over to the café, determined to at least grab some coffee before heading north again. Once we got inside even Bret succumbed to the smells of breakfast, and we took a table near the back door and ordered food. "I'm gonna go get the horses," he told me, and hurried over to where they were tied. Like I said, the town was small and it only took him a couple minutes; by the time he got back food had arrived and we ate just like what we were – hungry men. I was happy to see my brother with an appetite. He finally looked up at me and grinned when he saw me watching him eat. "What?" he asked between bites.

"Welcome back, Brother Bret," I answered as I reached for my coffee. "I was wonderin' when you were gonna show up."

"Sooner or later," came the reply. "You happy now?"

"I do admit to feelin' better," I told him. "We need you at yer best."

He reached over and patted my arm. "Don't worry, son, keepin' us alive is my biggest concern."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I'm way past that wantin' to die stuff. Especially at the hands of either one a those two morons."

"Speakin' of which, let's get goin', huh?"

I paid for breakfast (I did send for him, remember?) and we slipped out the back door. We made good time, and by nightfall we were that much closer to Kansas City. I'd let Bret and the stallion lead most of the day; Noble seemed to be happier following. I pulled up even with him and gave him a choice. "We can keep goin' now and sleep later, or we can camp now and get up early."

"Your choice," he told me. "I'm good either way."

"Let's keep ridin' for a while. The more space between me an the boys the happier I am."

Bret nodded and picked up the pace a bit. Noble followed with no hesitation, and we rode for another two or three hours before finding a good spot to bed down. Supper was quick – beans and jerky don't take long – and soon Bret was asleep. I know because I could hear his snoring. I laid there for a while and thought about the last couple weeks. If I'd known what I was getting into I wouldn't have left Little Bend. For just a minute I wondered if my being around would have prevented or hastened the heartbreak inflicted on my brother, before finally deciding my presence wouldn't have made any difference. Bret was already head-over-heels for the girl before I ever decided to leave, and my staying might have only delayed the inevitable. But I mightn't be running for my life right now, I considered, and then finally gave up and let myself fall asleep. Too late to change anything, anyway.


	3. Breakfast and Bullets

Chapter 3 – Breakfast and Bullets

We made a big push over the next three days and finally got to Kansas City. You can always smell the city when you get close; it's hard to miss the stench thousands of head of cattle produce. I breathed a little easier for a minute or two. Even if Jed and Dickie followed us into town, the place was so big and spread out it'd take them a while to find us. And we didn't intend to be here long.

We went to a small hotel right off the cattle pens that I've stayed in before. This time of year you didn't have to worry about open windows and the stink, so it was just as well. The place was quiet, clean, cheap and private. Very private. And they had the biggest beds I've ever seen, which is what interested me and Bret the most right now. We didn't waste any time and it was about one in the morning when I woke up and found Bret already out of bed, sitting in my normal spot by the window.

"Don't tell me you've caught it, too," I told him.

"Caught what, son?"

"The I-can't sleep-anymore-so-I'll-sit-and-stare-out-the-window disease. I thought I was the only one that got that."

"Naw, I only been up a few minutes," came his answer. "You had enough sleep or you need more?"

"I'm good. Can we get a real meal before we pack up?"

"Does this place serve real food?" he laughed.

"No, but there's a little café right down the street that caters to whoever's up at this time a night. You game?"

"Yep. How long is it - " he started to ask, then stopped when he realized I already had my boots and coat on. "How'd you learn to get dressed that fast?"

"Not by sneakin' out bedroom windows," I told him, alluding to his one encounter with a woman who insisted she wasn't married, until her husband came home.

"You couldn't get up and dressed like that when we were kids?"

"Heck no," I told him. "Why would I wanna get up when you did all the chores while I got an extra few minutes sleep?"

He threw his hat at me, so I threw mine back at him and put his on. Again, I wore it down low over my face and he practically chased me out the door. Down at the end of the street 'Casey Sue's' was open and had half a dozen men in various stages of inebriation in it. They made the best apple flapjacks here I'd ever tasted.

"Well, long time no see," Sue told me as we settled in at a table. "And just who is this you've brought with you this time?" Her eyebrows had gone up about three inches when she got a look at Bret. Sue is a connoisseur of good-looking men.

"Down, Sue, this is my brother Bret. Bret, the owner of the place, Casey Sue."

Bret, of course, decided to be charming. He stood and kissed the back of her hand. Sue turned about six shades of red and almost fell over when she caught a look at the dimples. "Oh my," was the extent of what Sue could say after that.

I glared at Bret. "Could ya not do that till we get fed?" I asked him, and he just grinned at me. That, of course, made it worse. Eventually Casey Sue decided to take our order and rushed off to bring us coffee.

Actually, part of the reason I brought Bret down here to Casey's was that very reaction. I knew Sue would fawn over my brother, and his ego could stand a little attention right now. If I knew him, he was gonna be skittish around women for a good while, and I hated seeing him in pain. I know what it's like to get your heart walked on.

Bret had to agree with me when we finally got served; the apple flapjacks were outstanding. Even Lily Mae's weren't that good, and that's saying something. We were there for the better part of an hour, and about half of it was taken up by Casey flirting and Bret flirting back. My work done, I just sat back, drank coffee and smiled.

Finally we had to leave, and I don't think I've ever seen Sue quite so sad. Bret, however, was in a much better mood and even started whistling as we walked back to our room. "Ready to head out?" I asked while looking up and down the street to make sure there was no sign of Dickie or Jed. Besides being worried about those two finding us, I was concerned about the rapidly encroaching winter. It was usually dry in Sioux Falls, but Lady Luck had a way of looking at me that I didn't like . . . . . .

"I'll go get the horses," Bret said and brought me back to the present.

"No back door at the hotel."

"Take your jacket off and wear my black one till we get outta town. Don't come out until I get here with the horses."

"Yes, Pappy," I told him, and slipped inside to get our belongings. I was waiting inside the front door when Bret rode up with the horses; it was still dark out, but there was a faint light from the full moon. I walked out under the cover of the horses and tossed him his war bag, then threw mine over the saddle again and mounted. Just as I started to pull myself up into the saddle Noble got skittish and stepped sideways, pushing me back down onto the street just as a shot rang out. If I'd been in the saddle I'd have a bullet in the back.

Bret rode around behind me and Noble took off running with my boot halfway in the stirrup. Getting on that animal is hard enough sometimes, much less trying to mount and hold on for dear life at the same time. It had to be Dickie and Jed, but how had they found us so fast? I wasn't gonna stick around and find out.

We rode like the Union Army was chasing us. For once Bret had a horse that kept up with Noble, who'd just saved my life. Damn, why had I insisted on eating before we left? Now that they'd seen us it'd be easier to track us.

We rode like that until, for the horse's sake, we had to slow down. We finally got to talk, and the conversation was none too pleasant. "Damn it, Bart, how'd they find us so fast?"

"How should I know? I was just as surprised as you were. And you aren't the one that was almost shot."

Bret shook his head. "For once I'm ready to kiss that horse a yours. If he hadn't acted up - "

"Maybe that's why he acted up. He's never like that."

"Doesn't matter why. I'm just glad he did." Bret thought for a minute. "That telegram you sent – who'd you send it to in Shreveport?"

"The marshal."

"Did you stay in the telegraph office until the clerk sent it?"

"Yep."

"Did you get the telegram form back from the clerk after he sent it?"

"Yep."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I've got it right here." I reached into my coat pocket to show him the form. It wasn't there. Then I remembered – I had on Bret's jacket. "It's in my coat. I'll show ya when we stop next."

He was quiet for a minute, and I could just hear the wheels turning in his head. "I think we better take turns sleepin' for a while," he said, and I don't know if it was a suggestion or an order. Either way, I wasn't gonna argue with him right now. We needed to get to Sioux Falls, and we needed to get there in a hurry.


	4. Skyfall

Chapter 4 –Skyfall

The further we rode the colder it got. By the time we reached Omaha we were wearing thick coats, courtesy of a little fur-trading outpost about a mile away from Fort Atkinson. I outplayed Jean-Pierre at poker and the coats were ours. After that, it was a lot warmer.

We kept heading north, not sure if the outlaws were still following us. After they found us in Kansas City, I wouldn't put anything past 'em. Maybe they were smarter than I thought.

We stopped in Sioux City and spent the night in what passed as a hotel. Frankly, the obscure hotel in Kansas City had more to offer, but this place at least had a bed and by the time we got there my back was demanding something besides the ground. And the advantage was we could both sleep at the same time.

The next morning we grabbed what food we could find and pushed on, determined to reach Sioux Falls the next day at the latest. The last few miles we were dodging Indians and the weather. Sioux Falls was usually relatively dry in the winter, but the sky I was looking at sure didn't look friendly. And with the temperatures where they were, it wasn't going to be rain coming down, it was going to be snow.

We pushed the horses as much as we could. After a week of traveling they were even more exhausted than we were. I thought sure one of us was going to cheer when we saw the makeshift sign for Sioux Falls – it was only two miles away. Bret and I exchanged looks and I sighed with relief. And that's when the snow started.

By the time we got to Sioux Falls, it was snowing good. Or should I say bad? Bret took the horses to the livery and I stopped in at the sheriff's office. I must have reminded him of a snowman because the look the sheriff gave me was priceless.

"Sheriff Manning? I'm Bart Maverick. The marshal from Shreveport was supposed to let you know I was comin'?" I took off my gloves and shook hands with Manning. He was about thirty-five, medium height, dark-haired and dark-eyed, but with a smile that was almost too friendly for a lawman.

"Maverick. Maverick. Maverick? Oh, the fella that recovered the money the Richards gang stole. Yeah, I got a telegram from Shreveport and one from Wells Fargo. Looks like you got a nice piece of money comin' from Wells Fargo. Let's see, where's that telegram? I know I still got it somewhere. Yeah, here it is," and he produced a piece of paper from the stacks on his desk. "Five thousand, six hundred dollars. Course the money hasn't arrived here yet, it's supposed to be on the next stage. That might take a while, seein' what the weather's like outside."

"And how about the marshal in Shreveport?" I asked.

"Let's see, that one's somewhere here too. Oh yeah, he says that's Jed Hightower and Dickie Smithfield followin' ya. Ah, if those are the two I just got wanted posters on last week, they're meaner'n snakes. Dickie was a bare-knuckles boxer till he killed a man in the ring. Jed used to be an Indian scout. Don't know how either one got mixed up with Richards, but he's put their skills to work. Uses 'em to get whatever he needs outta people don't wanna co-operate. Looks like you met both of 'em before." He gestured at what was left of their handiwork on my face.

"Yeah, I did. Once is enough, thank you."

"They still trailin' ya?"

"We think."

Manning scratched his head. "We?"

"My brothers with me. He took the horses to the livery."

"You plannin' on stayin' here in Sioux Falls?"

"Yeah, at least till that stage gets here with the reward money."

"Liable to be here longer than that, Mr. Maverick."

That was news I didn't want to hear, so I definitely wanted an explanation. "Come again, sheriff?"

"We don't get a lot a snow, but the last time we did the mountain trails were snowed in for months."

"So take a different way out."

The sheriff gave a little chuckle. Apparently he was amused by my naiveté. "That's the only way in or out, Mr. Maverick."

"That's – what? The way we came in is the only way? In or out?"

"Lessin' you wanna go over the falls."

I'd seen the falls. Nobody in their right mind was going that way. "Then I'll just have the reward money sent somewhere else."

"Sure, that can be done," Manning said. "But it's got to get here before it can be sent someplace else. And you gotta be here to get them to send it on somewhere."

Just about that time Bret walked into the sheriff's office. "We got a problem, big brother." I introduced Bret and the sheriff and then explained the conundrum we found ourselves in.

"So what yer tellin' me is we can't go anywhere until the money gets here?"

I nodded. "Smart boy. You catch on quick."

Bret gave me one of those "if somebody wasn't already tryin' to kill you I'd do it myself looks" and I tried to find a place to hide. There wasn't one in sight.

"Then I guess we're not goin' anywhere until the stage comes."

That's when Manning explained the double-edged sword known as the coming snow storm and the only way in or out of town to my brother. When the sheriff was finished Bret just looked at me and sighed. "Remind me why I just followed you up here?"

"Uh, I followed you," I corrected him. I think that I'd call the look Bret shot me a glare. "I'll give you twenty-five percent of the reward money," I offered.

"Half," he countered with.

"A third," I replied.

He stuck to his guns. "Half."

"Forty percent. My final offer."

Bret got up from the chair he'd sat in. "Have fun in snow-land, Brother Bart."

I reached out and grabbed his arm. "Alright, alright. Half."

He shot me a grin. "That's more like it. When's the stage due, Sheriff?"

"Day after tomorrow," Manning answered.

"What's the reward on those two . . . . . criminals?"

"Five hundred dollars apiece."

Bret smirked and looked at me. "All we have to do, Brother Bart, is capture Jed and Dickie, then collect the first reward from the stage, and we can leave."

The sheriff laughed, a big hearty laugh. Reminded me of Bret's. "Good luck with that."

"Come on, Brother Bret, before we wear out our welcome with Sheriff Manning."

After we got outside we headed for the hotel. "I checked us into a room," Bret told me. "Upfront. With a view of the street. Just in case one of us can't sleep. Room Two-oh-one."

"Good. Food or sleep?"

"Food, then sleep," my brother answered.

"Saloons?"

"One at either end of town. 'The Gilded Lady' and 'Pete's.' The Lady's fancier."

"Fancy, who cares? I wanna know what kinda coffee they make."


	5. Trouble Comes Knocking

Chapter 5 – Trouble Comes Knocking

I wasn't yet awake when Bret first looked out the window the next morning. I was awake about thirty seconds later, when he let out the closest thing to a shriek that I've ever heard come out of his mouth. "What was that?" is what immediately came out of mine.

"Get up," he said, and it wasn't a request. I grabbed my coat; the fire had died and it was cold in the room. When I got to the window alongside Bret I almost made the same noise. Everything, everywhere as far as the eye could see, was white. And I don't mean white. I mean WHITE, buried under snow drifts as big as I'd ever seen. I looked up at what was supposed to be the mountain range we'd come through. I guarantee that nothing was getting through that road; not today, tomorrow or next week. The bad news was we're weren't going anywhere anytime soon. The good news was nobody that wasn't already here wasn't getting in, either.

That meant Jed and Dickie were trapped outside of Sioux Falls somewhere. Bret had the same thought at the same time, because he turned to me and grinned. "Maybe they'll freeze to death while they're out there."

"NO!" I cried.

"Bart, you aren't feeling sorry for those two, are you?"

"No," I replied, "for us. If they freeze to death out there, we won't be able to collect the reward on 'em."

He reached over and patted my arm. "There, there, Brother Bart, maybe we'll find the bodies."

"Hey, I never thought of that." My outlook on the situation had brightened considerably.

"Well, I sure hope they've got a lotta people in this town that like to play poker, cause we're gonna be here for a while."

"Won't be the first time we're stuck somewhere." Let's hope I could manage to avoid jail. I didn't want a repeat of Montana. "Now that you've got me up, how about breakfast?"

XXXXXXXX

The coffee and the food were average in the hotel dining room. The waitress, however, was above average. Matter of fact, she was downright outstanding. Beautiful dark brown curls, sparkling blue eyes, and the prettiest smile I'd seen for a while. Her name was Maggie, and she seemed pleasant but distant. I had the feeling I'd find out more about her later, and turned my attention to Bret, who was back to moving food around his plate without putting any in his mouth.

"What's botherin' you this mornin'?" I asked him.

"Nothin'."

I shook my head. "You're pretend eatin' again. Don't tell me nothin'. Pappy? Althea? Somethin' else?"

"You mean besides the two outlaws on our tails?"

"It's more than that, big brother. We've been in worse spots. What's got you so worried?"

He sighed. "Alright, I'm still concerned about Pappy. If you'd been there, Bart - "

"You know why I left."

"Yeah, I do, and I appreciate that. But I don't know if it solved anything. By the way, I brought the Bible with me. I think you should have it back."

"Didn't read any of it, huh?"

He made kind of a pained expression. "Nope."

"Alright, I'll take it. You got it in your saddlebags upstairs?"

"Yeah. Look, I need to get outta here for a while. I'm goin' down to Pete's. That alright with you?"

"You want company, or you tryin' to escape me?"

Bret gave me a funny look, almost as if he was afraid I'd be offended. "I'm not tryin' to escape anybody, but I need to play some poker and think."

"Sure, no problem," I told him. "I'll catch ya later."

He drained his coffee cup and left. I hope that he was telling me the truth. Every once in a while he gets real secretive and I have to figure out what's going on with him. This time, I had no idea other than everything I'd mentioned earlier. I wanted a cigar and something to do that didn't involve sitting upstairs looking out the window, so I headed down to see The Gilded Lady for myself.

Beautiful place. Whoever put it together had real good taste. There were only one or two things that I'd change, and they were small. There was one poker game going and it was full at the moment, so I went to the bar and ordered coffee, then sat at an empty table and played Maverick solitaire while I drank coffee and smoked my cigar. I was there about half an hour when a well-dressed man of about forty got up and left the game, and I picked up my cup and what was left of the cigar and wandered over. "Gentlemen, you mind if I join you?"

I was welcomed in the way most new money is and within a few minutes knew everybody's name. Joe Mercer was to my left; he was the barber in town. Today was his day off. To his left was Saul Bender, the owner of Sioux Falls City Bank, then Tom Miller, owner of Miller's General Store, and finally, to my immediate right, Calvin Smith, the undertaker. Somehow I always end up playing poker with the undertaker. I introduced myself and lit another cigar. We played for about an hour, back and forth with the winning, while I watched all four gentlemen carefully.

Joe played conservatively, like he was afraid to lose too much money. Saul, the bank owner, bet big and played big. Tom and Calvin were average at best. All in all it seemed a friendly group, and we played until almost one o'clock. I won more than I lost but nothing spectacular. The group finally broke up for the afternoon and I was invited to join their game again, including the man that had left earlier, to resume at ten o'clock that night at the Lady, as everybody referred to the place. I accepted the invitation. The missing player was Rally Simmons, an investment speculator, and a fine fellow according to the rest of the group.

Tom invited me to join him for lunch at Minnie's Café and it sounded like a good idea, so I walked three doors down with him to a pleasant little spot. We chatted while we ate and I heard most of the local lore, including how Tom was planning on selling the store in the spring to a friend and was heading out to Carson City.

"I've got a friend out there I can put you in touch with," and I told him about Anderson Garrett and some of the locals. I did not tell him about Rose. That one he could find out for himself.

Tom wouldn't let me pay for lunch, and finally he left for the store. Had to relieve the morning man, he told me. He was a nice enough fellow, but I wouldn't feel a bit sorry about winning his money. I followed a few minutes later and went back to the hotel, expecting to find Bret in our room. He still wasn't back, so I decided a nap was in order. The rude awakening from this morning had gotten me up before I was ready, and an hour or two more of sleep sounded good.

I don't know how long my nap was before I heard urgent knocking at the door. I didn't want to answer it; knocking like that is never good news. I grabbed my Colt and got out of bed; the knocking persisted. Finally from outside I heard "Bart Maverick, this is Sheriff Manning. I have to talk to you."

I kept the gun out and opened the door. It was, indeed, Sheriff Manning, and he looked none too pleased. "Sheriff, my brother?"

Manning shook his head. "Yer brother's fine. It's Tom Miller that's dead."

.


	6. Cold Comfort

Higher Ground

Chapter 6 – Cold Comfort

"What? I just had lunch with him." I holstered my gun and opened the door, letting the sheriff in.

"Why do ya think I came to talk to ya?"

"How'd it happen?" I sat down on the bed, leaving the chair for Manning.

"Somebody shot him in the back, at the store. You didn't go back there with him, did ya?"

I shook my head. "No, he went there and I came back here. I've been here ever since. Was it a robbery?"

"Doesn't look like it. Money in the cash box. Nothin' taken outta the store. Did he talk to anybody at lunch?"

"No, just the little gal that took our order. Somebody got it in for him?"

"Not that I know of. Everybody liked Tom. What about those two friends a yours?"

I didn't like what he was implying. "They're not my friends. They're outlaws and thugs. And what would they want with Tom?"

Manning shrugged his shoulders and had a bewildered look. "Maybe they thought he was a friend a yours?"

"I've got no reason to believe they made it through the pass before the snowfall."

About that time the door opened and Bret walked into the room. If he was surprised to see the sheriff there, he gave no indication. "Manning."

"Maverick." The sheriff turned back to me. "If you think of anything, let me know, would ya?"

I nodded and the sheriff left. "What was that all about?" Bret asked.

"Somebody I had lunch with got killed." I watched my brother's face, and he didn't seem phased by what I'd told him, either.

"Should we be worried?" he asked as he unstrapped his gun belt and laid it on the bed.

"I don't know. Sheriff's got no idea about who or why, that's why he came to see me. Graspin' at straws."

"You already got somebody killed? You work fast." I knew that Bret wasn't serious, but I wasn't laughing. Tom seemed like a nice enough fellow; I was really hoping that his death was just a coincidence. He saw the look on my face and got real solemn. "Who was this guy?"

"Somebody I met playin' poker," I answered. "I was at The Gilded Lady until I went to lunch with him. Name was Tom Miller. He owned . . . . . . "

"The General Store," Bret finished. "Sorry. Wasn't tryin' to be funny. You down at The Lady playin'?"

"Yep. Didn't feel like comin' back to the room. Played until a little after one o'clock. Tom asked me to lunch, and I went with him. There's a place down the street called - "

"Minnie's Café." Bret nodded, the second time he'd finished my sentence for me. "That's where I've been for the last hour or so. Pretty decent food."

"How'd you do at Pete's?"

"Won a little," he answered. "Met a couple interestin' people. You?"

"Same. Got invited back to the group for their usual game at ten o'clock. Course, that's before one of their regulars got killed."

Bret rubbed his chin. "Do you think – "

My turn to interrupt. "I hope not."

XXXXXXXX

When I walked into The Lady at a little before ten, I had no idea what kind of reception I was going to get. Joe and Saul were already there, looking somber. For obvious reasons Calvin would be late, I was informed. When Rally came in we were introduced and spent the next few minutes talking about Tom. From what Simmons had to say, Tom Miller was a good friend.

After some discussion it was decided to go ahead and play poker tonight, in honor of Tom. Once we sat down at the table Rally ordered a round for everyone, to toast the deceased man, and even though it was against my better judgement I participated. When you don't drink that stuff it doesn't take much for you to feel it, and I certainly did. I immediately ordered a cup of coffee and wasted no time drinking it. Joe started the deal and we were off.

Somewhere around midnight Calvin got there. Rally again ordered a round, but this time I declined, explaining that I didn't drink and had joined in to honor Tom and for no other reason. I thought I might have a problem there for a minute but it was all settled amicably, and I joined in the second toast with my coffee.

Rally was a better poker player than all of them. He bet smart and played the games with a joie de vivre that the others lacked. I had to pay close attention to detail to beat him consistently, and it presented me with an interesting challenge. How to win enough to be profitable BUT be invited back. I must have pulled it off because I was invited to join them again tomorrow night, at nine o'clock instead of ten. Tom's funeral was tomorrow at noon if they could get a grave dug for him. Either way I committed to being there.

We played until three or three-thirty and then a halt was called due to the day's events. I checked my funds discreetly and was about five hundred dollars ahead. Not a significant amount but better than being behind.

Everybody but Saul went to Minnie's for food and I joined them, but just for more coffee. I hadn't eaten since the lunch with Tom, but food wasn't really appealing right then. It was interesting that I went; Maggie from the hotel dining room was working here this morning. She was a whole lot friendlier once we were introduced, and I found out that her last name was Sawyer. I discovered she was going to the service for Miller and arranged to stop by Minnie's at eleven thirty and pick her up.

After she left the table Rally looked at me and asked, "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"I've been trying to get Maggie to let me take her somewhere, anywhere, for months and she's always refused. You get introduced to her tonight and she's going with you tomorrow?"

"Rally, I'm escorting the lady to a funeral, not a barn dance. I wouldn't get excited about that."

"Maybe because he treated her like a lady," Joe Mercer interjected.

Rally didn't seem thrilled with Mercer's comment, but he didn't say anything. Finally I set my empty cup down. "Gentlemen, I'll see you tomorrow at the funeral. Thank you for a pleasant night." I pulled my coat closed as far as I could and braced myself for walking the block back to the hotel. It was so cold outside that my breath froze, and I was in such a hurry to get inside that I didn't pay any attention to anything around me. If I had, I might have felt like I was being watched.

When I got back to the room I was darn near frozen. I stoked the fire and put two more logs on, hoping to get it nice and warm. Bret wasn't back yet, and I climbed into the far side of the bed. Funny, we grew up sleeping in separate beds, but we have no problem sharing a bed as adults. Maybe it's because we're too frugal (cheap?) to pay for two rooms.

I was mostly asleep when I heard Bret come in. Actually, I heard him whistling as he came up the steps, which meant he'd had a good night. The whistling stopped when he got to the door, just in case I was there. Since I was generally asleep I stayed that way. We've both nearly perfected the art of undressing and getting into bed without making too much noise, and by the time Bret was ready for sleep Brother Bart had drifted back off. Neither of us is what I would call a restless sleeper, and Bret's snoring doesn't even bother me – as long as I get to sleep before he does. I've asked him if I snore, and his answer varies depending on his mood, but it's mostly 'no.' That's a comforting thought.


	7. Like My Pappy Always Said

Chapter 7 – Like My Pappy Always Said

"Good grief, man, do you own anything else black? You look like yer goin' to a funeral." Bret was right. Black on black on black. Seemed appropriate.

"I am," was my response.

"That's today?"

I nodded my head. "Assuming they can get him into the ground." I thought about Bret's 'grave' in Dodge City and shuddered. He watched me carefully and I wondered if he knew what I was thinking.

"Where's the graveyard?" he asked me.

"Don't know. I imagine Maggie'll know." Now I waited for the questioning to begin.

"Maggie? That pretty little thing in the dining room?"

"The same."

"How'd you manage that one?"

"She works part time at Minnie's and part time at the hotel. She was there last night when we went in after poker. She mentioned going to the funeral, so . . . . . . "

"You gallantly offered to take her."

"Yep. Gotta go find out about a buggy."

He decided by be helpful. "Livery's down by Pete's. Don't get lost."

"I'll try not to, thanks." I grabbed the thick coat and left, stopping at the front desk. "Where's the cemetery?" I asked the clerk.

"About two miles east of town," came the reply.

That made the decision for me. I definitely wasn't walking two miles in this weather. "Thanks," I answered, and followed Bret's direction to the livery. I made arrangements for the buggy and agreed to pick it up at eleven o'clock. Then I hurried back to the hotel to collect my brother for breakfast. When I got back to the room he was gone, so I left the coat and went back downstairs. Maggie wasn't working this morning and the fella that had taken her place didn't have much to say.

I ate a nondescript breakfast and drank three cups of coffee, then returned to our room. I hadn't retrieved Momma's Bible from Bret's saddlebags last night and I did that now, running my hands over the almost smooth black leather cover. It seemed proper to sit down and read some and I had the time, so I did.

Before I knew it, the time had passed and I needed to go get the buggy. I put the coat back on and added gloves, then went back up to the livery. Charley (he'd introduced himself earlier) had almost finished hitching up the horse and I paid for the rental and drove down to Minnie's to pick up Maggie Sawyer. Since I was considerably earlier than I needed to be, I tied up the horse and went in for more coffee.

Maggie was there and joined me at the table. She looked twice as pretty as she had last night, even if she was dressed for a funeral. "I like that," she told me as I pulled out her chair. "A man that's early and has manners."

"The ladies in your life always come first," I told her. "And my Pappy always told me, the only time you should be late is to your own funeral."

"Wise man," she remarked.

I had to laugh, quietly. "Sometimes. Tell me about Maggie Sawyer."

So she did. Youngest of three children, the rest of her family had lived in Sioux Falls for years and then headed for California. Maggie couldn't bear the thought of leaving, so she stayed put, living in the little house she'd grown up in. She'd worked at the hotel for two years but had recently taken a part-time job at the café, waiting for a full-time job to open up. Wages, conditions and the food were all better at Minnie's, and it was much more pleasant working for Minnie than Bert Ingram, the owner of the hotel.

"And no beau on the scene?" I asked curiously.

"Rally Simmons, if I'd let him," she answered. "Rally seems nice enough, but he's a little old for me. And there's something . . . . . . " her voice trailed off.

"Odd about him?" I finished for her.

"You noticed it, too?"

I nodded. "Can't quite put my finger on it, but yeah, I noticed it. Just the tiniest bit off."

"Okay, I've told you all there is that's interesting about me. What about Bart Maverick?"

So I gave her the short version of my life so far, omitting Jed and Dickie, since I didn't think they were anywhere in the vicinity. "And if you promise not to fall in love with the dimples that my brother Bret got and I didn't, I'll bring him in the next time you're working and introduce him."

"That's who you were with the first time I saw you, isn't it? I could see the resemblance."

"Funny, people have started tellin' me that recently. Personally, I don't see it. Especially the dimples."

"Dimples are overrated," she pronounced, staring right into my eyes. And then she smiled.

XXXXXXXX

Somebody had managed to dig a grave in the cemetery, and Tom Miller was laid to rest beside his parents. A fierce wind came up during the burial and it got colder, if that was even possible. On the way back from the funeral, Maggie told me that Tom was a Sioux Falls native, just like she was, and she'd gone to school with his younger brother, who'd left for California years ago. "I guess Sammy will inherit the store now," she stated. "There's no one else. I wonder if he'll come back here or just sell it?"

"Tom was planning on selling in the spring, he told me yesterday at lunch."

"He's threatened that before," Maggie said, "but this time I think he meant it. He was ready to leave Sioux Falls for good."

"Why do you stay here? It's too cold to even breathe."

She halfway shrugged her shoulders. "No reason to leave. Everything I know is here."

"There's a big wide world out there, Maggie. Lots of places to go, things to see. You could go anywhere, do anything."

"It's too hard for a woman by herself. I wouldn't try to go across the country alone."

"What if somebody went with you?" I had said it before I realized how it sounded.

Fortunately, she laughed. "I assume you didn't just volunteer?"

"Uh, well, I, uh . . . . . . no."

"You're a nice man, Bart Maverick. How is it you don't have a wife following you around? Or do you?"

I shook my head. "No, just a brother. And he usually follows me around to keep me alive. Where do you want me to take you today?"

"I've got a shift this afternoon at the hotel. Come have a cup of coffee?" she asked.

"Ah, you've found my weakness," I told her. "I'll be in as soon as I return the buggy to the livery. Before the poor horse freezes to death." I pulled up to the hotel and helped Maggie out, then drove back to the livery and did what I intended. The wind had gotten even colder and I ducked into Pete's to momentarily escape it.

Pete's was obviously the older of the two saloons, and a lot more 'rustic.' Not the kind of place Bret would usually take to, but when I walked a little further in I understood why. It didn't look serious, but he was sitting at a table with a woman that reminded me of Maude Donovan, only she was closer to Maude's daughter Doralice in age.

Bret looked up as I got to the table. "Brother Bart, just in time. Constance Morgan, this is my brother Bart Maverick. Bart, this is Constance Morgan. She's the owner of Pete's."

"And what happened to Pete?" I asked as I tipped my hat to Miss Morgan.

"He was my father. When he died he left the saloon," she explained. "I took over. Your brother just consented to work for me so that I can handle everything but the saloon itself."

"Why Brother Bret, you've taken a page from my book and gotten yourself a j-o-b. Better not tell Pappy."

Constance gave him a strange look and said, "Pappy?"

Bret quickly explained. "Beauregard Maverick, bless his soul, who told us never to drink whiskey or take a steady job."

I stepped in at that point. "Yeah, I don't think that's worked out real well for either one of us."

"If we're gonna be here any length a time, I need somethin' to keep me busy. Constance has agreed to let me play poker when things are slow, so I can stay sharp. I can't just sit in that hotel room, Bart."

I nodded; I understood the problem. "You go right ahead, big brother, and ruin the Maverick reputation by being gainfully employed. Me, I'm gonna avoid that for now. I just wanted to let ya know I'm gonna be in the hotel dining room if ya need me for anything."

"Alright, son, see ya later." And he went right back to talking to Constance.

Well, I pondered to myself. Who woulda thought? Brother Bret had broken two of Pappy's biggest rules in the same year. What next? Was he gonna get married, too?


	8. Crossing the Line

Higher Ground

Chapter 8 – Crossing the Line

Maggie got off at six o'clock from the hotel and she agreed to accompany me to dinner at the best restaurant in town, the Cattleman's Table. She still had Tom Miller's death on her mind and I did my best to try and cheer her up. I even ordered us a glass of wine. While we were there, Rally Simmons came in for supper with three other well-dressed gentlemen and glared at me. I guess I'm not high on his favorite people list. There was nothing going on between me and Maggie, other than friendship. At least not yet. Rally and his party sat right in Maggie's line-of-sight and she couldn't help but notice them.

"Rally Simmons is here," Maggie finally announced to me, and I nodded.

"I saw him come in. He's not real happy with me right now."

"Why? You haven't done anything to him," she stated plaintively. "Because of me?"

"I suspect so."

"Because I turned him down before and went to the funeral with you?"

I answered her. "That started it. Now you're here with me for supper. He's not a happy man."

"I'm sorry that you seem to be in the middle of this," Maggie told me. "If you'd rather leave . . . . . "

I reached over and took her hand, then looked into those blue, blue eyes. "No, ma'am. I do not want to leave. I'll handle Mr. Simmons tonight at poker." I had no doubt that he'd be a lot less pleasant than he'd been last night. Right now I didn't care. Maggie was a sweet girl and I was enjoying her company. It had been a while since I'd had someone of the female persuasion to talk to. Or do anything else with, for that matter. Finally our dinner came, and it was pleasant to eat steak with someone that didn't scoff at my well-done food. She didn't eat hers cooked the same way as mine, but she didn't give me the Bret-Maverick-death-stare associated with steak dinner with my brother.

I told her more of my family stories (those appropriate to share with a lady) and had to paint a portrait of everyone in the extended Maverick clan. She told me more about her mother and father and growing up as the youngest in the family. We compared notes on that one; quite frankly I think I had it better than she did. Just as we were finishing supper she whispered, "He's still watching us."

"Of course he is," I told her, and picked her hand up off the table. "Don't act surprised." I turned the palm of her hand up and kissed it, and she smiled at me.

"Good reaction," I told her.

"Good kiss," she answered. And we both laughed.

After dinner I paid the bill, pulled her chair out, and helped her with her coat. Then I walked her a block south to the little house that had belonged to her family. "I'm sure it's not proper," she told me, "but would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? I know you have a nine o'clock engagement."

"Just with a poker game," I answered. "I'd love to." Maybe it wasn't proper, but I was enjoying being around her and didn't want to leave just yet.

It was a nice little house. It reminded me of Georgia Mayfield's home in Silver Creek, the one she'd lived in when we first met her. Maggie made a much better cup of coffee than the hotel dining room, and we spent a pleasant hour drinking it and talking about gambling, and why my poker playing didn't qualify as such. She asked what it was like to play cards for a living and I tried to answer her honestly. No sense painting some romantic picture of what could at times be a hard life. At quarter of nine I thanked her for the coffee and put my coat back on, then promised to come see her tomorrow afternoon at Minnie's. Yes, I kissed her, and it was a sweet, tender 'thank you' kiss for a lovely evening.

I was in a splendid mood, even though I knew that Rally was probably going to be a handful at poker tonight. This time I was paying attention as I walked, and I'd almost swear that I was being watched. Not followed; watched. I couldn't imagine who might be paying attention to me, as I assumed Jed and Dickie to be trapped on the other side of the mountains. There'd been no sign of them, and we'd been here almost four days.

That's when I heard the sound. It was high-pitched, almost whistling, but not like Bret whistled. This had an eerie tone and only lasted a few seconds. It wasn't repeated, and if it was a signal of some kind it wasn't answered. Or my imagination was working overtime. I didn't hear it again, and soon I was at The Gilded Lady.

Rally was already there, playing a quick hand of solitaire while he waited for everyone else. He looked up and glowered when I walked in, then quickly wiped the look off his face and smiled and nodded. "Maverick."

"Simmons."

"Did you enjoy your dinner?" Rally kept the sarcasm out of his voice.

"I did, thank you," I answered him, and indeed I had. Maggie was a charming and bright companion. The arrival of Mercer, Bender and Smith delayed any further conversation and frankly, I was relieved to see them. They brought a stranger with them, a shorter, older man. His name was Ezekiel Traxler, and he'd been invited to take Tom Miller's place in the poker group. Zeke, as he preferred to be called, was the owner of the Cattleman's Table.

"Quite a coincidence, Zeke. Rally and I both dined there this evening. The food was excellent."

"Ah, yes, you were there with Maggie Sawyer. Lovely young lady. Rally, didn't you spend an evening there once with Miss Sawyer?"

"No, Zeke, I did not. Miss Sawyer evidently prefers less well-established companions."

Ouch. I was right, Rally was not a happy man. Fortunately Calvin Smith had the deal and started the game. It was evident right from the first hand that Simmons allowed his emotions to affect his poker playing, because this was not the same man I'd played last night. He was distracted and uncertain, the way I'd played more than once, and he kept under and over betting his hands and losing. That was fine with me since I was the biggest beneficiary of his distraction. By midnight it hadn't gotten any better and Rally threw down his cards in disgust.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, I just can't focus on the game tonight. I have a rather large deal that's on the verge of falling apart and that's all I can think about. I beg your indulgence, but for everyone's benefit I should withdraw for the evening. Shall we resume at out regular time tomorrow night?"

Everyone nodded ascent, but I wanted clarification. "Is that at nine or ten o'clock?"

"Why Mr. Maverick, are you staying in town?" That from Rally as he gathered his funds and his coat. The implication was that I had worn out my welcome.

"Unless the stage arrives via dog sled tomorrow, Mr. Simmons, I most certainly am."

Mercer again spoke up. "Ten o'clock, Bart. You're a regular member of the group now, as long as you're here in Sioux Falls. You too, Zeke."

Calvin and Saul nodded their heads in agreement. Rally made some sort of disgruntled noise but raised no objections. In fact, he tipped his hat and said, "Good night, gentlemen," glared once more in my direction and left.

"Uh-oh," Calvin was the first one to speak after the doors to the Lady closed. "Our investment speculator has just been outmaneuvered by our poker playing friend. Things do not bode well for you, Bart."

"Crossed a line, did I?" I chuckled.

"Good that you see the absurdity of it, Rally won't. It was only a matter of time before Miss Sawyer began to see someone that wasn't Mr. Simmons, and he didn't take it well. Sorry for whatever comes your way, Maverick," Saul explained.

"As long as he doesn't bother Maggie, I'm a big boy," I replied.

"Just watch your back, is all we're tellin' you, Bart. Rally is a nice enough fella until you cross him. And even though you did nothing wrong, he thinks you did. Be careful." This last from Joe, the barber.

They were serious, so I took it seriously. "Alright, gentlemen, I'll keep that in mind. Now, shall we resume or have we finished for the night?"


	9. Dancing in the Dark

Chapter 9 – Dancing in the Dark

Turned out everyone was pretty much done for the night. I understood that; it had been a long, difficult day. Especially for the men still sitting at that poker table. I'd lost an acquaintance, a man I'd just met and hadn't had time to get to know yet. They'd lost a friend and neighbor.

I was done, too, but for a different reason. There was something not quite right going on here, and I needed to think about it. Only trouble was it was too cold to do any walking, and I was sharing a hotel room with my brother. I had no desire to drag Bret into my troubles after what he'd just been through with Althea. Little did I know at the time that he had complications of his own and was feeling the same way.

So I went to Minnie's anyway, ordering what else? Coffee. I took a table in the very back, where I could see everything going on around me but was fairly obscured from anyone just entering the café. And I started running over the odd things going on around me that weren't adding up. The feeling that I was being watched. The strange whistling noise I'd heard after leaving Maggie Sawyer's house. The odd behavior of Rally Simmons, both when it came to his attitude about Maggie and his overall demeanor. And in the back of my mind I was still worried about Dickie and Jed. What if they had made it into Sioux Falls before the snow closed the road in? Where were they now? Were they just waiting for the right time to either make my life hell or try and kill me?

I'd been there about half an hour when who should come in but Rally Simmons. Not only that, he wasn't alone. With him was Bret's new friend and employer, Constance Morgan. They took a table at the front of the café and Rally sat with his back to me; Constance didn't seem to be paying any attention to anything other than Simmons. Whatever he was explaining to her or telling her had her totally enraptured. I watched her for a few minutes and saw a change in her countenance; whatever he told her wasn't sitting well with her. The longer the discussion went on, the more upset Constance became. Finally she slammed something down on the table and jumped to her feet, grabbing her coat and rushing out by herself.

Simmons sat there for another five or ten minutes, then dropped some coins on the table and left without turning around. I saw him head in the direction of Pete's and followed suit, paying for my coffee and grabbing my coat. I needed to find out if whatever just happened was going to affect my brother in any way.

I was still getting into my coat as I exited Minnie's and didn't see whoever was standing in the alley between the café and the next building. Someday I guess I'll learn to keep my eyes open and pay attention to things like that all the time; maybe I'd just gotten careless or was distracted by my need to see Bret while the meeting between Rally and Constance was fresh in my mind. Whichever it was, I didn't see, hear or feel anyone there, and it cost me another lump on the head and several lost hours. Real happy it didn't cost me any more than that.

When I started to wake up everything was foggy at first; then I realized everything really was foggy, and I wasn't where I'd gone down. Whoever had hit me pulled me down into the alley so that passerby wouldn't see me lying there. I grabbed for my wallet and found it still inside my coat, full of my poker winnings. Robbery sure wasn't the motive, so they must have been after me. But why? Maybe they were afraid I was following Rally, but that hadn't been my entire intent.

I rubbed the back of my head gingerly and came away with a warm and sticky feeling. One thing I'm real good at is bleeding. I tried sitting up and had to lean back against the building; it sure felt like a concussion. I wanted to get up and get out of there. My entire body was frozen from lying in the cold for who knows how long, but my head said _'slow down boy, you're not goin' anywhere.'_ My head won that round and I sat still until the world did, too. Then I got up slowly and carefully, holding onto the side of the building just to be sure I could remain upright. Finally I felt like I could walk away without falling down and pulled my coat tight around me.

I went straight back to the hotel and was still a little too unsteady to be real quiet. By the time I got inside the room, I found my brother sitting in bed with his Colt aimed at me. "Sorry, I needed to . . . . " and that was as far as I got before my knees gave out. I'm not sure who caught me, the bed or Bret. When I came to the second time I had a terrible headache and a concerned brother bent over me.

"Just haven't learned to lie still for a while, have you?" he pulled the damp cloth away from my head and there was just a small streak of red on it. "Any idea who it was?"

"No," was about the most I could say at that exact moment. Bret started to move away from me and I caught his wrist; I wanted to know just what he'd gotten into. "Your new boss," I said, and got his attention.

"Constance? She's not the one that – "

"No," I said for the second straight time. "But she was there." I had to wait a minute to finish. When I could start again, I did. "With Rally Simmons, the investment speculator. And she was none too happy with him." I took the cloth out of his hand and applied it to the back of my head, then sat up but stayed in the bed. "Poker broke up early, and I went to Minnie's and nursed a cup a coffee. Rally and Constance came in and sat down but never ordered anything. He was givin' her quite a talkin' to when she got mad at him and left. She threw somethin' that looked like paperwork on the table when she first stood up."

"You try to follow her?" he asked me, and from the tone of his voice I could tell he wasn't surprised by what I was telling him.

"Nope, I waited for Rally to leave, and then I tried to follow him. Somebody didn't want me to. There's somethin' goin' on that you haven't told me about, isn't there?"

Slowly he nodded his head. "Yes, there is."

I waited for the explanation that never came. "You know I'm not gonna back off, right?"

He nodded his head again.

"Gonna let me walk into this blind, huh?"

"Nothin' I can do, son. I gave my word."

"You're not just runnin' the saloon, are ya?" I watched his eyes, and he didn't have to answer me. It was all there; whatever the secret was, and he couldn't or wouldn't tell me. "Just answer me this – we're not workin' against each other, are we?" I wouldn't delve into whatever this was any further if his answer was 'yes.'

Instead, I got the answer I was hoping for. "No, we're not. I wouldn't do that."

"Good," I answered back. "Neither would I."

Still, I must admit it bothered me. To be working in the dark alongside, but not with, my brother. There was something off about this whole sojourn in Sioux Falls, and I had no idea what it was.

I really wanted to do nothing but go to sleep, but I thought I better stay up for a while, particularly since my head was still doing a slight amount of spinning. I took off my coat, vest, and gun belt and went to sit in the chair by the window so that Bret could go back to sleep. In a few minutes I heard him softly snoring.

I sat there in the dark and watched the snow fall again, much lighter this time, just adding to the misery that already existed for everyone outside. I wondered if Constance Morgan was somehow involved with Rally Simmons and wanted out. Was she included in the deal that was 'falling apart'? Had what she thrown back at Rally been a contract of some sort? And how was Bret involved? Something had piqued his curiosity or he'd never have taken a job in her saloon. Were any others of the poker group involved? Was Tom Miller's death connected to everything else, or was it just a coincidence? And who didn't want me following Rally to see where he was going and what he was up to?

I kept running the questions over in my mind. Nothing was adding up and sometime during my trip through the battlefield going on in my head my senses gave up and went to sleep. Sitting up. In the chair. Oh well, it wasn't the first time.


	10. Two of a Kind

Chapter 10 – Two of a Kind

Well, that solved the problem of the headache nicely. When I woke later from sleeping in the chair, everything hurt. I got up to move to the bed and discovered a minor problem – Bret was gone. I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, in a bed this time, but I couldn't. Where was he – at what time of the night was it? I pulled my watch out of my pocket and looked at it. Almost five o'clock in the morning. God, I hate mornings. If Bret was here he could attest to that. He used to have a hell of a time getting me up to go to school.

I didn't bother with anything except the gun belt and the coat. The hallway and staircase were as quiet as they could be, given the time of night (or rather morning) it was. I stepped outside into the freezing air; it had stopped snowing. I personally think it was too cold to snow. I wanted a cigar but not at the expense of standing outside to smoke it. I walked quietly down to Pete's and could see from the window there was no one inside. At least not in the front, but it looked like there might be a light on behind one of the closed doors. I tried the front door; it was unlocked.

As soon as I got inside I could hear voices. One could be Constance Morgan's . . . . I hadn't heard her speak enough to be sure. It was definitely a woman. One I didn't recognize at all, but the third voice I knew real well – it was my brother's. It sounded like the woman and the new voice were arguing, with Bret saying something every once in a while. His was the only one that sounded calm and reasonable. Then the voices suddenly rose in volume and I heard something crash to the floor, followed by a gunshot and a yelp. My invitation to the meeting had just been issued.

I pulled my gun and went scrambling into the room, just in time to see somebody run out the back door, which turned out to be Miss Morgan's office. I would have gone after them but something caught my eye and I turned to get a better look. It was Bret, and he was down on his knees in the corner of the room, trying to pick up his gun with his left hand. His right hand hung limply at his side, and there was blood running down the sleeve of his coat. I paused long enough to yell, "You alright?" and the answer came quickly.

"No, damn it! Go after her, Bart!"

I took off running, following the track marks in the fresh snow. They went down the back alley and around the front into the street, where they mingled with horse tracks and I lost them. Whoever it had been moved quick enough to disappear through the fresh tracks and into a door somewhere. I turned around and double-backed to Pete's office door. As I came through it, shaking my head, Constance already had Bret's coat off and his sleeve rolled up, and was pressing a handkerchief against the wound. It was in his right arm, about six inches below the shoulder.

"You hold this and I'll go get the doctor," she told him, and hurried out towards the front door. He looked up at me as soon as she was gone.

"Lose her?"

I nodded my head. "Her? Yeah, she crossed through some fresh tracks and I couldn't trace her. Who was she?"

I didn't get an answer and I went over to see how bad the wound was. I swear the doctor must have been right next door and already dressed because he was back before I had time to do more than glance at the gunshot.

"Bret, this is Doc Demmers. Doc, this is my saloon manager, Bret Maverick. Oh, and his brother Bart."

"Come over here in the light, young man," the doctor ordered, as he was dragging Bret with him. "Mmmmn. Mmmhmmm. The bullet's still in there. Come with me, my office is right next door. I'll have that out in just a minute or two."

Bret made no protest and followed Doc. Constance started to go after him, but I grabbed her arm and kept her in the office with me. "I need some answers here, Miss Morgan," I told her.

"I can't give you any right now," she replied, and tried to pull away. I don't like forcing a woman to do anything she doesn't want to do, but I wasn't about to turn loose of her arm.

"Then you're not goin' anywhere until you can. Somebody just shot my brother, in case you didn't notice, and they might've killed him if I hadn't shown up. I'm in the middle of whatever this is now, and I wanna know what I've walked into."

"Please, let's go to the doctor's office. I promise I'll tell you whatever you want to know as soon as Bret's taken care of."

I know, I know. Even after being well-acquainted with Samantha Crawford, I still tend to believe a woman when she promises me something. Maybe I should put that in the same category as remembering to be careful when I walk past an alley. So I turned loose of her and we went to the doctor's office. It wasn't too long before Demmers walked Bret out into the front, arm newly bandaged and, I presumed, stitched. And in a sling for good measure. I took a look at the coat and shook my head. "Another one ruined," I told him. "How many is that this year?"

"I don't wanna know," was his answer. Constance and I followed him out the door. "Go back to the hotel," was the next thing out of my brother's mouth, and I shook my head which, of course, he couldn't hear.

"I don't think so. Somebody promised me an explanation once you were fixed. I'm not leavin' until I get it."

Bret shook his own head and went straight for the coffee pot. He wasn't real steady, pouring with his left hand, but not much spilled. He looked at me and I nodded, and he poured a second cup. I stood and waited for a few minutes, sipping coffee and pondering who was gonna speak first, when Constance finally gave it up. "Come on in my office, please, gentlemen."

She settled in at her desk and Bret and I took seats in front of it. He looked at her and I knew exactly what was going through his mind. _'Not my tale to tell.'_ Bret was always good for letting people explain themselves.

"I never intended for anyone else to get involved in this mess, let alone Bret's brother," she started. "I told you that my father left the saloon when he died. That was true, but I didn't say who he left it to. He divided it 50-50, between me and my sister, June. She had no interest in participating in its day-to-day operation, so I took over running things. I made sure she got her share of the profits, but in the last few months she's gotten more and more needy. She was secretive and wouldn't explain why she needed money, and quite by accident I found out. She's invested heavily with Rally Simmons. I understand that you know Mr. Simmons?"

"Well enough."

"Well enough to have an opinion of him?" she asked curiously.

"He's . . . . . . complicated."

Bret laughed. "That's all yer gonna get, Connie."

Constance Morgan nodded. Evidently she knew Bret enough to know what he meant. "I told her there would be no more money forthcoming, and she tried to mortgage the saloon without my consent or knowledge. She threatened me. My sane, sweet, gentle sister threatened me. I knew that I had to take some kind of action. Right about then Bret walked in and started playing poker." She stopped talking and I waited for my brother to continue the story.

"Right off I caught two of Connie's dealers cheatin'. I came to see her and told her what I'd seen, and pointed out to her how to catch 'em at it. She did and fired both of 'em."

"My sister had threatened their jobs if they didn't cooperate with her and skim money off the house percentage. So I started talking to Bret about investigating why she was so desperately in need of more money. It didn't take too much convincing to get his help."

"That's my brother. Always willing to help a damsel in distress." It's a trait that we both share. Me and Bret, I mean. But that still left a lot of questions that I needed answers to. "Is that why you were in Minnie's last night, arguing with Mr. Simmons?"

Constance looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "I wasn't in Minnie's with Mr. Simmons or anyone else."

"Miss Morgan, I saw you. The two of you came in, almost one o'clock this mornin', and sat there for a good ten minutes talkin'. Then you got upset with him, threw somethin' down on the table and left."

"I promise you, I wasn't there, Mr. Maverick." She was sincere when she said it. Now I was confused. I'd looked right at her, even if she hadn't seen me.

"Then your sister June - "

"Is my twin sister."


	11. Snakes

Chapter 11 – Snakes

"Your twin sister?"

If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I might not have believed it. There wasn't one hair's worth of difference between the two, but it did explain why 'Constance' didn't recognize me. I wondered if it was June Morgan who'd whacked me over the head. I looked over at Bret and waited to see if he was thinking the same thing.

He nodded at me, then winced as he shifted in his chair. "Coulda been her," he answered my unasked question.

"And she's the one that was in here arguing with the two of you?"

"Yep. And the one that shot me."

Still didn't know what the argument was about, but before I could ask the question there was a knock on the door, followed quickly by the Sheriff's face. He walked into the office and sighed, looking from Constance to Bret to me and back again. "Well, now I know who was shot. I just need to know who did the shootin'."

Before Constance could say anything I stepped up to take the blame. "It was an accident, Sheriff. I was tryin' to show my brother somethin' and I missed and caught him instead."

Bret nodded his agreement and Constance quickly closed her mouth and said nothing. "Why did I know that anybody named Maverick was gonna be trouble? So that wasn't June Morgan that I saw runnin' across the street with you chasin' her earlier this mornin'?" Of course he was staring right at me when he asked the question, and I simply gave him what Bret likes to call the 'puppy-dog' face.

"Nope, Sheriff Manning, that wasn't me. It was awful foggy this mornin'. Are you sure you saw anybody at all? Maybe it was just a shadow."

Manning displayed a kind of half-assed smile before he turned to leave. "In case anybody needs to know, June Morgan ran into the general store. Wilson's keepin' it open for Sammy Miller for right now. Just in case anybody needed ta know."

The sheriff left, closing the door behind him, and Constance breathed easier. "Why did you do that?" she asked me.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Remember the damsel in distress thing?"

Finally, a smile from Miss Morgan. "You, too?"

Bret had to chuckle a little, after all the teasing he'd endured over the years from me. "We are brothers, Constance."

"If June's involved with Rally Simmons somehow, she needs all the help she can get. What now?"

I got one of those 'Pappy' looks from Bret. "Now you go back to playin' poker and I keep watch on the saloon."

"That's not gonna solve any – "

"Maybe you can figure out from that side what's goin' on with Simmons and why June needs so much more money."

It made sense. Why hadn't he said that to begin with? "Alright, but I wanna know what's goin' on over here from now on. And no more of this Mr. Maverick business, Constance. Please."

"Agreed." She stuck out her hand. "Bart."

I kissed the back of it. What? I'm not shaking hands with a woman that looks like that.

XXXXXXXX

I got Bret back to the hotel and into bed, since he'd had about two hours sleep. I would have liked more myself but I wanted him to have the bed and not have to worry about bumping into anything, so I passed. I changed clothes and got cleaned up, then went down and got coffee and breakfast for the injured man. Believe me, trying to feed your brother is not the easiest thing in the world, especially since he was the one with all the experience at the task.

Fed and tucked into bed, I didn't expect him to take too long to fall asleep. As soon as he did I slipped out and locked the door behind me, going down to get breakfast myself. I would have gone to Minnie's, but I remembered that Maggie didn't work until the afternoon. As was my habit when I was alone, I sat in the rear of the dining room with my back to the wall. Can't be too careful. I had just ordered and was working on my second cup of coffee when I saw something I wasn't expecting – June Morgan. She had changed into a dress and she was the spitting image of Constance – I almost thought that's who it was at first. But as she walked across the dining room towards me I noticed something I hadn't seen before – her gait was odd, almost as if she'd had a broken leg that hadn't healed properly. Constance didn't walk like that.

She came straight over to my table and sat down. I think at first she waited to see if I knew it was her and not Connie, but I just kept drinking coffee and never said a word. When the waitress brought my food, she filled June's coffee cup before leaving. "Hungry?" I asked at last.

She nodded her head and I handed her the plate, taking a piece of toast from it. She ate like she was starving and never said a word until she was finished and the plate was clean. When the coffee pot came around again for refills, I ordered another breakfast. When we were alone she finally spoke. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because you were hungry."

"You noticed the limp, didn't you?"

I nodded my head and waited to see what else she'd tell me. We sat like that, in silence, until my second breakfast arrived. She took a piece of toast off my plate, to replace the one I'd taken from hers. The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile.

"June." It wasn't a question, merely a statement.

"I'm the one that shot your brother."

"I know."

"Aren't you going to turn me in to Dan Manning?"

I had to stop and think for a minute. It was the first time I'd heard Manning's given name. I thought maybe it was 'sheriff.' "No."

"He tried to stop me from . . . . . . . . . "

"From what?"

"Never mind. You're nice."

"I've been accused of that a time or two." Something seemed just a little off with June.

She drank some of her coffee and then picked the last piece of bacon up from my plate and ate it, watching me carefully the whole time. When I didn't complain she gave me a full smile. "I didn't mean to kill him."

"You didn't kill him." The conversation seemed pointless, but I had the feeling it wasn't.

"I saw you last night in Minnie's. Did you see me?"

I nodded. "I did see you. You were with Rally Simmons."

"Do you know Rally?" Now she was playing with her empty coffee cup.

"I play poker against Rally."

She chortled. That's all I could call the sound she made. "Play. That's a funny word. That's what Rally called it. Play. It didn't feel like we were playing."

"What didn't feel like playing, June?" There was more going on here than I'd first thought, and I was going to push it as far as June would let me. Until I got an answer, I hoped.

"When Rally and I - you know. When we hugged and kissed. It felt – real. It felt like I finally had something of my own, something that Constance didn't have."

Was she telling me what I think she was telling me? If so, Rally Simmons was the lowest form of human being on the planet. "June, did Rally tell you he loved you?"

She smiled again and for an instant looked truly happy. "No, not yet. But I know he does. He talks about us being together all the time. When I've got all my money and Constance can't bother me anymore."

Before I could ask her anything else, another couple entered the dining room and June disappeared faster than I thought possible. She hadn't told me everything, but she'd given me an awful lot of information. Looked like I was going to have to go to the source to get anymore. I put down my empty cup and paid my bill, then started back upstairs to our room. I needed my coat if I was going to track down Rally Simmons.


	12. The Past is Still the Present

Chapter 12 – The Past is Still the Present

Bret was still asleep when I got back to the room, so I didn't have to explain what I'd found out before I had the whole story. Once again I grabbed the heavy coat and left, hoping that he'd keep sleeping while I was gone.

I had no idea if Rally had an office or not, so I went to see Joe Mercer at the barbershop. I could stand a haircut and shave, anyway. Looked like everyone in town was still asleep, because Joe's place was empty save for its owner. He smiled and looked pleased when I walked in.

"Hey, Bart. How's everything this mornin'?"

I didn't mind digging for information since I was paying for his services at the same time. "Not too bad, considerin' my brother got shot this mornin'."

"What? What happened?" He was already working on my hair as we talked.

"Official word is I shot him accidentally."

Joe smirked. "And unofficially?"

"Somebody else shot him, and it wasn't an accident."

"Ah-ha. Wouldn't happen to be a young lady I saw runnin' down the street earlier today, would it?"

"Well, since I wasn't there I can't exactly say. But besides some attention to the way I look, I need to get some information. Can you answer some questions for me?"

His smirk vanished real quick. "I'd like to, Bart. It just depends on what you need to know."

"Does Rally Simmons have an office?"

He visibly relaxed. "That's easy. Four doors down on the other side of the street. But you probably won't find him there until later. I saw him ride out of town about an hour ago."

"Any way of knowin' where he went?"

"Nope. Maybe it's got to do with that big deal he was talkin' about last night."

"The one that was fallin' apart?" I needed to find out who was involved in that.

"Yeah. Probably. Why are you lookin' for him?"

I waited to answer until Joe didn't have the scissors quite so close. "I want to talk to him about June Morgan." I needn't have worried about the scissors. As soon as I said June's name Joe sat down slowly in the other barber's chair and looked like his dog had just died.

"Poor Junie. Such a sweet, misguided girl. Rally befriended her."

I watched him carefully. "I think he's done a lot more than just befriend her, Joe."

His head shook, sadly. "I've been afraid of that. She was so . . . . . . vulnerable. And he's . . . . . . . "

"A snake," I finished for him.

"Good description." Joe got back up to finish the haircut. "Pat ya on the back with one hand and stick the knife in ya with the other. As long as it benefits him. Say, what's this?"

Joe found the lump that had come to stay with me last night, and I "youched!" when he poked around. "How'd ya get that?" he asked.

"I ran into a door."

"With the back a yer head?"

"I was walkin' backwards."

"Oh." Joe shrugged his shoulders. I guess he figured if I wanted him to know anymore about the lump and the dried blood I'd tell him. I didn't.

"What do you know about Rally and June together?"

"Not much. I've seen 'em a couple times, but I was hopin' it was nothin' more than business. Or kindness. Junie's a little . . . . . . slow sometimes. But a sweet girl, like I said. Then Rally got his hooks into her . . . . . ."

"And he still pursues Maggie Sawyer?"

Joe laughed at that. "Remember what you called him."

I had to wait a minute to ask my next question, as Joe had already started the shave. And that razor was just a little too close, even if I didn't think there was any chance of anything going wrong. "Why does everybody play poker with him if they know what he is?"

"Ya gotta understand, Rally wasn't always like he is now. Time was, he was a good fella. Why, he's the one that loaned Tom the money to open the store. Somethin' happened somewhere along the line, and he changed. Money got to be the most important thing in his life. I guess we just choose to ignore what he's turned into. And once we lost Tom . . . . . . "

"Anybody else in the group involved with him financially?"

"That I'm not sure about. He tried to get me in on one a his deals, but I just flat told him no. I know he was after Saul Bender for a while. I don't know if he succeeded or not. Calvin – probably not. You'd have to ask him. What's goin' on that yer not tellin' me, Bart?"

"Not sure yet, Joe. But let's keep this conversation just between us, huh? At least until I know more than I do now." My chin felt a whole lot better, and my hair looked more like me and less like a wild man. "Thanks," I told him as I paid him for the cut and shave, and clapped him on the shoulder for the information.

Well, now what? Rally wasn't in town and it was too early to go see Maggie. The thought of Maggie made me smile for just a moment. That sweet mouth and those blue, blue eyes. Witty, bright, charming. I'd much rather spend time with her than a bank president, but I finally decided that's just where I needed to go next. The wind had picked up again and snow already on the ground was blowing everywhere. I was about to head for the bank when I remembered a more serious commitment – Bret.

I went hurrying back to the hotel. Bret was awake and moving around, although rather awkwardly. "Thought you deserted me," was the first thing he said when I walked in.

"Nope," I replied as I brushed snow off my coat.

"Not snowin' again, is it?"

I shook my head and grinned at him. "Wind's blowin'."

"Alright, I'm starvin' and what's the grin for?"

"Well, let's see what we can do about gettin' your coat on. And I'll explain the grin when we get your lunch ordered."

After a short struggle we got Bret's coat on (like I said, he's usually the one helping me, so he's had way more practice than I have) and the sling back on his arm, and headed down to the dining room. The same waitress was still there and she asked as we walked in, "Are you gonna eat two lunches this time?"

Bret shot a look at me that said 'You better be explainin' that soon' and we sat at a different table. He ordered his lunch and I got more coffee. I was holding out for lunch with Maggie, and I'd barely had one swallow of coffee when he asked, "Okay, what have I missed?"

I was still explaining my breakfast to him when his food came. I got everything cut up and proceeded to tell him about the rest of my morning while he ate, with me lending a hand whenever necessary. He nodded and commented in several places, but got a disturbing look on his face when I told him about June and Rally.

"What kind of a snake takes advantage of a woman like that?"

"The kind named Rally Simmons. At least we agree on what he is. I was headed to the bank to talk to Saul Bender when I came back here instead."

For the first time, I got a smile out of my brother. "Glad you did. I was starvin'."

"You're always starvin'." I took a good look at Bret. He could still stand to put a few more pounds on his frame.

"Have you given up eatin', now that you've had one meal today?"

"No, when I leave you I'm goin to see Saul and then havin' lunch with Maggie."

"Have you got time to go up to Pete's with me and tell all this to Constance?"

"Nope," I replied. "But I'll come up there and explain everything after lunch. Oh, and after I track down Simmons."

"Alright, come back upstairs for a minute and help me with that dang coat, would ya? I want to see how Connie's doin' this afternoon."

"Sure. You be there until I come by?"

"I will. Spendin' time with Constance isn't real difficult, ya know."

I grinned at him. "I wouldn't imagine it is. And that's just why I wanna have lunch with Maggie. Alright, let's get your butt dressed. Constance can get ya undressed. Oops, I mean out of yer coat."

"Funny boy."

I shuddered involuntarily. I hadn't heard that phrase for a long time, and hearing it never again would be too soon.

Bret realized too late what he'd said, remembering Montana and the beating just like I had. "Sorry."

"Forget it. It's been a long time."

"Evidently not long enough," he stated, as we walked into our room. I thought about that for a minute. How many times did I almost die? Once from the beating, two or three times from convulsions, and once on the gallows. Would I ever truly forget the time we'd spent in Silver Creek? I hope so, someday.

And then I shook my head as if to shake the memories away. I had other things to worry about right now.


	13. Plenty of Questions

Chapter 13 – Plenty of Questions

I don't know how it could have gotten colder since I went back to the hotel, but it did. Good thing it hadn't been this bad last night when I was lying in the alley or I would have frozen to death. I was real happy to step into the relative warmth of the bank.

"Yes, sir, can I help you?" the little lady behind the teller's window asked.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm here to see Mr. Bender. Tell him Bart Maverick." She scurried off to a big oak door and came back in just a minute.

"Please go on in, Mr. Maverick."

Typical bank president's office. Not that anything about this town had been typical so far, but Saul's office definitely fell into that category. We shook hands and he offered me a seat. "You didn't come looking for a loan, did you, Bart? I wouldn't think you'd need one after last night."

"No, Saul, I came lookin' for information. Do you have a few minutes?"

"For anybody else? No, no, no busy man. For you, sure. What can I do for you?"

"You can tell me everything you know about Rally Simmons, for starters."

"Ooooh, I'm not sure that I know anything that isn't public knowledge. Rally is an investment buyer, broker and facilitator. He negotiated a deal for Johnny Farrel out at the Bar J Ranch that darn near made Johnny a millionaire. I almost invested with him the last time he asked, and I wish I had. The man makes people a lot of money. And himself, of course. Why, are you thinking about investing with him?"

"No, Saul, I've got another reason. I'm lookin' into somethin' that may or may not involve his investin'. What do you know about him personally? Married, engaged, family, anything? Where did he come from? How old is he? Where does he live? Anybody holdin' a grudge?"

Bender rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I really don't know a lot. He's been here in Sioux Falls four or five years. Came from St. Louis if I remember right. Don't know if he was born there. Got a brother somewhere out west, San Francisco, I think. Don't know anything about any other family. As for the married, engaged business. Neither that I know of. Why? You worried about Maggie Sawyer?"

Saul had given me a piece of information, at least. St. Louis. And a brother in San Francisco. That was someplace to start. That scoundrel Dandy Jim Buckley might prove useful yet. He knew people in St. Louis. "To answer your question, Saul – no, I'm not worried about Maggie Sawyer. This has to do with June Morgan."

That got a reaction from him. "Oh. Junie and Connie. Pete Morgan loved those girls, even if Junie was just a bit odd. She hasn't gone and gotten herself into some kind of trouble, has she?"

"I hope not. Do you know anything about her tryin' to sell or mortgage Pete's recently?"

"How did you find out about that? Only two people knew that – "

"Constance told me. I'm tryin' to find out why."

Saul got up and walked around the room. "You know this is all confidential information, Bart. If anybody finds out I told you – "

"They won't find out from me, Saul," I tried to assure him.

"Alright, just remember, you didn't hear this here. June came in here looking for money. She said that Rally wanted to marry her and she needed a dowry."

I chewed on that one before I said anything. "How long ago was that, Saul?"

He thought it over for a minute while he walked around the room in circles. Bret does that, too. Paces in circles, I mean. "A month, maybe two at the most."

I got ready to leave. "Thanks for your help, Saul, and your candor. No one will know where the information came from."

We shook hands again and I got up to go.

"Bart." I looked back at Saul.

"Don't let Junie get hurt."

I nodded my head. "I'll do my best, Saul."

XXXXXXXX

I went hurrying down to Minnie's Café. I was late but when I got there, Maggie didn't seem to mind. "I'm off now," she told me, and I offered my arm.

"May I seat you, ma'am?" I asked her.

She giggled. "Yes, sir, something near the back, please."

I escorted her to a table in the back and pulled out her chair for her. I staggered just a little right before I sat down and she got a look of concern on her face. "Are you alright? Did something happen since last night?"

"So much that I don't know where to begin." We ordered lunch and I told her what I could, leaving out the sensitive parts about June shooting Bret and my discussion with Saul Bender.

"Good heavens, you should be in bed!" she exclaimed, and reached over to take my hand.

"I would like nothin' better," I pronounced, "but I don't think that's in the cards. Least not the deck I'm playin' with."

"Why don't you come over to my house for a late supper tonight, say about eight o'clock? You can at least have a home cooked meal and relax before you go to poker."

I was about to tell her I couldn't, I had too much to do yet today; then I made the mistake of looking in those blue eyes. The next thing I heard myself saying was, "Alright. But you don't need to feed me. I don't usually eat before I play poker. But coffee would be great."

She smiled and seemed to be pleased; I was, too. I liked Maggie Sawyer and looked forward to seeing her again this evening. When we were finished with lunch, I walked her back to her house and then crossed back to Simmons office. Rally still wasn't there, and I headed up to Pete's for my promised 'de-briefing'.

Bret and Constance were in the saloon, looking over some kind of paperwork. "Am I interrupting?"

Constance looked up and smiled at me; Bret just mumbled, "Of course you are." Nice to know that you're appreciated, isn't it?

"Bart! Coffee?"

"No thanks, Constance, I just came from lunch. Shall we talk here or your office?"

"Inside, gentlemen. I hope you have good news." She looked at me expectantly and I was concerned that she would be disappointed. We went to her office and I sat down, Bret paced. Something had him walking in circles around the room.

I told her what I'd learned, not attributing the information to anyone in particular. Constance was a smart lady; she could probably figure out where I'd gotten my knowledge. She frowned when I told her about the marriage and dowry part, but waited to say anything until I was through.

"I haven't been able to track down Rally today; wherever he went must have taken longer than expected. I'll see what happens at poker tonight."

The saloon owner looked like she was about to cry. "What in the world has he promised her?"

"Who knows, at this point?" I still wasn't sure if it was Rally leading June on, or June's own imagination that was responsible. "But I want to find out what Rally has to say for himself before I jump to any conclusions." Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. "Brother Bret, what are you wearin' a hole in that carpet for?"

He stopped pacing and finally came over to sit down. "There's gotta be somethin' we're missin', Bart. If Rally has made so much money for everybody, includin' himself, why is he after June's? He surely doesn't want to marry the girl, does he? Doesn't much sound like he loves her. Is he just after her money?"

Bret made a good point and had reasonable questions. Only problem was, I didn't have any answers. I'd been trying to get some, but I hadn't been able to track Rally down.

"Can't give ya any answers until I can nail Rally down for my questions. Let's hope he shows up tonight at poker."

My brother nodded but I was still watching Constance, whose expression had changed to one of despair. "Do you think he . . . . . I mean would he . . . . . could they have . . . . . . do you think they did anything more than just hug and kiss?"

That thought had obviously crossed my mind. "Does June understand - ?"

"About babies and things? I don't know, Bart. I tried to explain all that to her, but I don't know if she understands it or not. My God, he wouldn't – would he?"

Bret and I exchanged glances. I was the one that knew Rally. Would he? Was he that much of a cad, to take advantage of June's . . . . . slowness with things? I didn't like the answer my instincts gave me, so I told Connie what I hoped the answer would be. After all, I had no proof. "No, I'm sure he wouldn't. I'll get answers out of him, Connie, don't worry. In the meantime, have you seen June today?"

She shook her head; there was a measure of relief on her face, but the despair hadn't entirely disappeared. "I think she may have been here in the office when Bret and I were out front, but I'm not completely sure. The last time she was here she wanted to see the proof of ownership papers that I have for Pete's. I still don't know what that was about. I hid them, just to be safe." She was quiet for a minute, and then she looked across the desk at us. "I'm so sorry that I've drug both of you into this. It's gotten to be way bigger than I ever thought it would."

Bret reached across the desk and patted her hand. I just grinned and offered brightly, "Don't worry, Constance. If you hadn't, we'd have found plenty of trouble for ourselves."


	14. Wet Towels

Chapter 14 – Wet Towels

I left Pete's and went to the telegraph office, taking a few minutes to write out two wires. The first was to Jim Buckley, who was in St. Louis the last I heard. The second was to Casey Manfred, a friend of mine in San Francisco. Both asked them to find out all they could about Rally Simmons and his brother, respectively. If Rally was his real name, Dandy should be able to dig up something. Casey would have a more difficult time, since we only had the last name to go on and San Francisco was considerably harder to track someone down in.

I'd finally had more than I could stand. Back to the hotel I went; my head hurt and I was having a problem standing up and not getting dizzy. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I needed some sleep.

It must have been two or three hours later when there was a soft but persistent knocking at our door. Bret wasn't in the room and he wouldn't have knocked, so I grabbed my Colt and yelled, "Who is it?" Nobody answered, but the knocking started again. I got out of bed and cocked the hammer on the gun, then cautiously opened the door. June Morgan stood there looking up at me. "Why didn't you answer me, June?" I asked her as I released the hammer on the Colt and opened the door to her.

She hurried into the room and sat down in the chair by the window. She shivered and I realized the fire had died again, so I put my coat around her shoulders and then stoked the fire back to life. "It'll be warm in a few minutes," I promised. I pulled another chair closer to the fireplace and got her to move, then I picked up the empty chair and moved it, too. "Warmer?"

June nodded. "Were you asleep?" she asked me.

I picked right then to yawn. "Yes. Did you need me for somethin', June?"

She shoved some folded-up papers at me. I opened them; it took me a minute to focus. When I could finally read them, I almost laughed. If these were the ownership papers that Constance hid it sure didn't take June long to find them.

"What about them?"

"Read them," she instructed me, and I did. They said exactly what Connie had told us, that the ownership of Pete's was split 50-50, but Connie had control of the saloon. There was nothing underhanded in what was being done with the property, and nothing in the documents for June to be upset about. Unless she wanted to dispose of her half. According to the papers, Constance had first right of refusal if June was going to sell. Then why hadn't June just sold to Connie?

"Alright, I've read them." It was finally starting to warm up in the room and June took my coat off. "Now what?"

"Does it say I can't sell my half of Pete's?" She stuck out her chin defiantly.

"No, June, it doesn't say that. It says you can sell your half, but you have to offer it to Constance first. If she doesn't wanna buy it, then you can sell it to anyone else. Have you talked to Constance about sellin' your half to her?"

"Does it really say that? That I have to sell it to Connie?"

"No, it says you have to offer it to her. If she refuses to buy it, then you can sell it to anyone you want."

"Oh." She sat there for a moment, trying to figure out her next move. "Would you buy it?"

"Depends on how much you want for it," I told her. I couldn't imagine Connie not wanting to buy the other half of her father's saloon.

"Okay. So I have to talk to her about buying it from me?"

I nodded gently. My head felt better, but the headache wasn't completely gone. "Don't you and your sister live together?"

"Yes and no. We live in the same house. I stay in my room when she's home."

"Why do you do that, June? Your sister loves you. I'm sure she'd like to see and talk to you when she's home."

"No. She doesn't want to talk to me. Just yell at me. She yells because I don't want the saloon. She yells because I don't do the dishes right. She yells because I want a puppy. She really yells when I talk about Rally. I don't want to hear her yell, so I stay in my room. Or I go to Rally's house."

"What do you do at Rally's house, June?"

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Actually I would." I was still trying to find out if June and Rally . . . . . .

"So you can tell Constance?"

"I won't tell Constance." I hope she believed me. I wanted to gain her trust, and if this was the only way I could do it I was willing to keep her secrets.

"Well, we - "

That was as far as she got. Bret picked that exact moment to open the door and June jumped up, terrified. As soon as he walked into the room she fled, running past him before he could close the door and shut her in.

"Good timing," I told him.

"How was I supposed to know?" he asked, sounding irritated. "Have you turned into her best friend? She shot me, ya know."

"I know she did, Bret. But she was just about to tell me what she did at Rally's house."

I heard a very soft "damn" under his breath. "She tell you where Simmons was?"

"I didn't ask her."

"I suppose it's too much to ask what she wanted?"

"She wanted me to read these," and I handed him the papers she'd given me. "Constance didn't hide 'em real well."

"Damn," for the second straight time, this one a little louder. "I'll give these back to Constance."

"No, you won't," I told him, taking the documents out of his hands. "June gave 'em to me, and I'm gonna give 'em back to her. I answered her questions; she has no further use for 'em. I think she'll put 'em back where she found 'em."

"Why did she come to you? You're the one that chased her yesterday mornin'."

I'd already given that some thought. "I may be the closest thing she's got to a friend right now. She thinks her sister hates her. She's afraid of you, and at the moment Rally's among the missin'. That leaves me."

"True. Alright, I'll keep quiet for now. Are you playin' poker tonight?"

"Yep. I'm hopin' Simmons finally shows up. But I gotta get ready and get outta here. I have an appointment at eight o'clock."

That elicited a grin from him. "Maggie Sawyer?"

"Maybe." I wasn't in the mood to give him any satisfaction.

"I'm gonna catch a couple hours sleep. Why didn't you ever tell me what hard work it is carryin' yer arm around in a sling?"

"That's one a those things ya just hafta learn for yourself, Pappy."

The grin was gone and he just looked tired. When was the last time my brother slept? Right after he was shot this mornin'. That was a long, long day. "If I'm still asleep whenever you get back – "

"I'll get you up," I finished for him. I ran my hands through my hair and changed coats. "That'll hafta do for now. I don't wanna stop you from gettin' yer beauty sleep."

Bret threw a wet towel at me. "Get out."

So I did.


	15. Protection

Chapter 15 – Protection

I didn't want to leave Maggie's, but I'd made a commitment and I was going to honor it.

I was the last to arrive at the Lady. Well, the last of those that showed up for poker that night. Rally Simmons was among the missing. Joe and I exchanged looks, but nothing was said. Nobody seemed to have any idea just where the speculator was, but I did discover it wasn't unusual for him to miss a night without warning or notice. Everybody knew about my brother getting shot and June Morgan's involvement, even though I'd taken the blame.

Poker was a lot less challenging with Rally not there to do battle against. Zeke played about the same as Tom Miller had, just well enough to keep me on my toes. The night passed quickly and before I knew it the sun was up and the night's game was done. I went to Minnie's with Saul and Calvin; I didn't envy their having to go straight to work with no sleep at all. I know what that's like.

Maggie came in for the early shift and stopped by our table before startiung to work. When she left the table she kissed me on the cheek and I got raised eyebrows for her effort. "That was fast," Calvin commented.

I smiled. "Naw, I'm just adorable," I told him.

"And humble, evidently," Saul added.

We were still waiting for breakfast when Sheriff Manning came in and headed right for our table. _'Uh-oh,'_ I thought. _'Trouble's comin'.'_ Unfortunately, I was right.

"You missin' a poker player last night?" Manning asked.

Calvin answered him. "Yeah, Dan, Rally wasn't there. Why?"

Manning sat down in the empty chair. "Simmons is at Doc's this mornin'. Somebody near beat him to death. One a the Bar J hands found him way out on the road to town after he left there late yesterday. Anybody know anything about it? No? Maverick, I heard you were lookin' for him yesterday. Wasn't you, was it?"

"Why would I want to kill Rally Simmons?" I asked innocently. He might be slime, but try to kill him? And then it suddenly hit me – Jed and Dickie? Before I could say anything Maggie brought our breakfasts and stayed long enough to refill our coffee.

As soon as she was gone the sheriff frowned at me. "That was a reason."

I shrugged. "I had nothing to do with it, sheriff. Maybe it was my so-called friends."

"Why would they wanna kill him?"

"Exactly. And again I ask, why would I?"

"Mmmmm-hmmmm. Good point. Nobody else got nothin' to say?"

Calvin shook his head 'no', Saul shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody's got a reason, far as we know, Dan."

"How is he, Sheriff?" I finally asked.

Manning sat there for a minute, deciding whether to give me an answer. "Doc says he'll live, but it's not gonna be pleasant."

I shuddered, whether I wanted to or not. I'd been on the receiving end of a beating like that.

Dan Manning jumped on the involuntary action. "Somethin' you wanna share with me, Maverick?"

For once it was my turn to glare. "No."

"Alright, if anybody hears anything . . . . . . . . " He finally gave up and left. I pushed my plate away, my food untouched. I no longer had the stomach for it.

Maggie saw the move, too, and came over. "Is there something wrong with it?" she asked me.

"No. I just can't . . . . . . ." And I got up and ran, doing my best to make it to the alley. I just turned the corner when my stomach declared it wouldn't wait anymore, and I had to bend over hurriedly. I tried to think of anything else, to get those memories out of my mind. It didn't matter if I hated the ground Rally Simmons walked on, nobody deserved that. I pulled out my handkerchief and wiped my mouth, then straightened up and realized it was still freezing and I had no coat on. I got myself back inside as fast as I could manage.

Maggie had removed my plate and refilled my coffee, which I picked up and took a long swallow of. Saul looked concerned. "Everything alright?"

I nodded. "Just . . . . . unpleasant memories."

"Glad they're yours and not mine," Bender finished. "Being a bank president does have its advantages."

"I wouldn't wish those memories on anyone," I told them. I paid for the breakfast I hadn't eaten and got up from the table. Maggie came over and we made plans to meet later at her house. "Gentlemen, I'll see you tonight."

This time I put my coat on and walked back up the street to the doctor's office. There was no one in the front room, and I waited until Doc appeared to see who'd come in. He looked like he'd been up all night.

"Mr. Maverick. How's your brother?"

"Last time I saw him he was better, Doc. I understand that Rally Simmons is in bad shape. How's he doin' this mornin'?"

"Not so good. Manning tell you what happened?"

I nodded. "He did. Simmons gonna make it?"

"Good Lord willing. Why are you so concerned about Rally?"

"I was tryin' to find him all day yesterday to ask him some questions. He conscious?"

"In and out. Can the questions wait?"

"Doc, you and I both know how long it could be before he's in any shape to talk. They won't wait that long."

"How do you know how long it could be?" The way Doc asked the question, there was nothing but curiosity involved.

I took a deep breath. "Because I've been where he is right now. If he can hear me, he can answer me."

The doctor finally responded to me. "Alright, I'll let you go in, but I'm going with you. And if you upset him . . . . . ."

"Understood."

Doc Demmers led me into a back room. There was an exam table in it, but also a bed, and Simmons was in the bed. I grabbed a chair from the corner and sat down near Rally's head.

He looked terrible, and I wondered if I'd looked that bad. I must have. Rally's eyes were open, but I didn't know how much he could see. "Simmons, it's Maverick. Can ya hear me?"

"Maverick," came out in a croak. It sounded like whoever'd beaten him did a number on his throat, too.

"Do you know who did this to ya?"

"Yeah."

That was even weaker. I was kind of surprised he was talking to me at all. "Wanna tell me?"

"No." Well, there was the end of that spirit of cooperation. "Rally, they need to be arrested."

"No."

"Somebody from the Bar J?"

No answer this time. "Alright, will ya talk to me about June Morgan?"

"Junie? She alright?"

"She's alright, just confused and upset right now. She's tryin' to sell her share of Pete's so she has a dowry. Did you know that?"

"Dowry? No. I needed . . . . . . needed money."

"You needed money? What for? Everybody thinks you've got money. That isn't true?"

"No. Lost it . . . . . . lost it all. Told Junie . . . . . she could call it . . . . . dowry."

"Were you gonna marry the girl, Simmons?"

"Can think of . . . . . worse things."

"Do ya love her?"

That elicited a coughing fit. When it had calmed down he grimaced and said, "No."

"She told me about . . . . you romancin' her. Huggin' and kissin'. Did it go beyond that?"

He struggled with the next question. "You her . . . . . her mother?"

"I'm tryin' to help her, Rally. I need an answer from you."

"No."

"No? No you won't answer me or no it hasn't gone any further?"

"No further. Junie's gullible . . . . but sweet." He had a real struggle with that answer and I knew enough to quit before Doc kicked me out. I started to get up and somehow he reached out and grabbed me. "Protect . . . . . . protect her. Please."

Protect her. Protect her from what? Or was it from who? "I'm tryin', Rally. I'm tryin'."


	16. Pete's Other Place

Chapter 16 – Pete's Other Place

Much as I wanted to go to our hotel room, I thought I better go find June. So I went to Pete's to see if anyone was there yet, and found Constance in her office, sound asleep sitting at her desk. I hated to wake her, but we needed to talk before I went to see June. I knocked on her office door and she immediately raised her head. "I'm awake, I'm awake."

I chuckled a little. "I'd hate to find you asleep somewhere," I told her.

"Oh, Bart, I'm sorry. I thought you were – well, never mind who I thought you were. Come in. How's Bret this morning?"

"I haven't seen him since last night, Constance. I played poker all night."

"Oh. Did Rally Simmons play last night?"

I sat down. "Is it too early for coffee?"

"No, I made a pot before I fell asleep. And not last night, about an hour ago. I wanted to get the books done for the month before I went home to bed, and then I just fell asleep. Here, I'll get us some." She started to get up and I rose, too.

"Sit down, I'll get it. Behind the bar?"

"Yes, to the left side. There're cups there, too. Thanks, Bart."

I found everything and poured two cups. When I brought them back Constance looked grateful. "You never answered me about Rally."

"I just came from Rally. He's next door, at Doc's, tryin' to stay alive."

"What? I don't understand."

"Somebody tried to kill Rally by beatin' him near to death yesterday."

"WHAT? Is he going to live?"

I nodded. "Doc says so. He's got a long road ahead of him, though."

"Didn't you go through something like that?" she asked. Bret must have been 'explainin' things again.

"Yeah. Even when you get over it, you're not over it."

"Did you talk to him? Does he know who did it?"

"I did. And he does, but he's not talkin'."

"He won't tell you who's responsible? Why not?"

"Afraid, I'd imagine. He was near beat to death, Constance. He looks terrible. Probably feels worse. He won't risk whoever did it comin' back to finish the job."

"So you didn't find out anything to do with June?"

"They haven't . . . . . he hasn't . . . . . . taken advantage of her."

"He told you that?"

"Yes."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God. Now maybe she'll stay away from him."

"I don't think so, Constance. She loves him. Or she thinks she does."

"He doesn't love her, does he?"

"Not exactly."

Connie looked confused. "What does that mean?"

How to explain what Rally meant about her sister? "He cares about her. He's afraid she'll be hurt. He asked me to protect her."

"Protect her? From what?"

"Not what, who."

"Protect her from whom?"

"From whoever tried to kill him." Just as I finished telling her that, big brother walked in.

"Well, you do get around, don't you?" He continued into the office and sat down, picking up my coffee and drinking the rest of it.

"Connie, where's your house? I want to tell June what's happened." It was time for me to leave.

"Go down the street the way you came and turn left after you pass the cigar store. It's three houses back. There's a sign that says "Pete's Other Place" out front. I didn't have the heart to take it down after Dad died. Be gentle with her, Bart."

I nodded and clapped Brother Bret on the left shoulder as I reached for my coat. I'd told Connie everything I knew; she could tell Bret.

I found the house without any trouble. Kinda hard to miss the sign outside. I knocked on the door and heard running across the floor. June threw the door open and then looked totally disappointed when she saw it was only me. "Bart. I thought it was Rally. Come in."

I followed her inside. It was a nice house, cozy and comfortable. There was a bedroom off to the left, and two off to the right. "I don't have coffee, but I have tea. Do you want some?"

"No thanks, June. I just had some coffee. Honey, I need to talk to you. Can you come sit down?"

She came over, looking nervous, and sat down. I expected her to say something, like Connie had, but June just sat there and waited for me to speak.

"It's Rally, honey. He's been hurt."

"Is he dead?"

"No, June, he's not dead. But he's hurt bad."

"What happened?" She was wringing her hands, twisting her dress into knots.

"I'm not . . . . . not sure."

"WHAT HAPPENED?"

"Somebody beat him, June. They near beat him to death."

"Connie."

I shook my head. "No, June, not Connie. Connie couldn't have done this."

"Connie. It was Connie. I know it was Connie."

"This couldn't have been your sister, June. I saw Rally, I talked to him. Constance couldn't have hurt him like that."

"Yes, yes, yes. I know it was Connie. She hates Rally. She doesn't want me to have him."

One minute she was sitting in a chair at the table, the next minute she was sitting in my lap, like a little child, and sobbing into my coat. She cried her heart out and I just let her, and held her, and rocked her. I stroked her hair and crooned to her, and told her he was gonna be alright. She clung to me like her world had ended and I was the only thing she had left to hold onto.

We sat like that for a good ten minutes, June so distraught that she finally had two choices – stop crying or throw up. Fortunately, she stopped crying. She muttered something into my shoulder, but I couldn't understand what she said. I had to make her sit up and repeat herself. "I want to see him."

"I don't think that's a good idea, June."

"If you won't take me I'll go by myself."

"June – " I started, and she cut me off.

"I'm going. Either you take me or I'll go by myself."

I didn't say anything and she got up and started for one of the bedrooms. "Alright, I'll take you," I called after her.

"I'll be right back."

She was as good as her word. In less than five minutes she stood in front of me with her coat on. "Come on, let's go," she insisted, taking my hand and almost pulling me to my feet. I sighed, resigned that there was nothing else I could do right now.

We went straight to the doctor. Doc Demmers was in the front office, but he didn't look at all startled when June came through the door. "I couldn't talk her out of it," I told him, and he just shook his head.

"I'm not surprised. Alright, June, if you have to see Rally for yourself, take my hand. You can go in with me. Mr. Maverick, you better come too, just in case." He reached for her hand and took it in his, and they walked into the exam room together. I followed behind.

Rally was sleeping in the bed, turned so that you could see his face. She gasped when she first caught sight of him, then never made another sound. She sat on the chair I'd occupied earlier and started talking to him, brushing his hair back away from his face, much the way my sister Jody had brushed mine, I expect. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but it wasn't long before his eyes, swollen as they were, opened. And I swear, if it was even possible, that there was a small smile on Rally's face.

Doc got me by the elbow and led me back into the outer office. "No sense standing there listening to her. I imagine she'll be here all day. Does Constance know?"

"About Rally? Yes. About June being here? No."

"You look like you're about to drop, son. When was the last time you got any sleep? I can go tell Connie that June is here."

'Thanks, I appreciate that. I'm goin' back to the hotel right now, Doc." And I did just that. I'm sure June didn't even know I was gone.


	17. Who Are You?

Chapter 17 – Who Are You?

I never got back to the hotel room. I went straight to Maggie's house, fully intending to try and explain my debacle with breakfast earlier that morning. Instead, Maggie made me sit on the settee and drink coffee while she cooked breakfast for both of us, and I finally ate a home-cooked meal. After breakfast I helped her with the dishes and she seemed surprised when I rolled up my sleeves and offered to wash them.

"I was the youngest in the house, remember? I mighta gotten out of whatever mornin' chores I could, but washin' dishes became my job when Pappy ceded it to Bret and he insisted I had to help somewhere."

"I just can't imagine a man like you doing the dishes," she laughed as she went to dry the plates. "Sioux Falls preeminent gambler with my apron on at the kitchen sink."

"You know if ya spread that around town I'll hafta – "

"Do what?" she asked me innocently.

"This," I answered, and leaned over and kissed her. We were still standing there kissing, with my wet arms wrapped around her, when a persistent knock on the door interrupted us. Why am I always the victim of bad timing?

Maggie went to answer the door and I quickly dried my hands and took off her apron. Maggie seeing me that way was one thing. Everybody else . . . . . . . .

It was Dan Manning. Somehow that was no surprise to me, but what he had to say was. "I need to talk to ya, Maverick. I got another body on my hands."

"Come in, Sheriff," Maggie insisted. She wanted to close the door, and I didn't blame her. It was still freezing outside.

"Who now?" was my question.

"Bobby Durfee, one a the Bar J ranch hands. You know anything about it?"

I gave Manning a withering look. "Why would I know anything? I never met the man."

"Just seems awful suspicious. You an yer brother ride into town and the killin' starts."

I was tired of being accused of things I knew nothing about. "Did you talk to my brother? Maybe he knows somethin' about this Bobby fella."

Manning nodded his head. "That's why I'm here. I just came from Pete's. Yer brother don't know nothin' either."

"Look, Sheriff, I wish I could help. I really do. But I don't even know where the Bar J Ranch is, much less who your latest victim is. Surely you can find a more likely suspect than either of the Maverick brothers?"

Manning got this look on his face that I have no idea how to describe. Finally he nodded his head. "You got a point. I'm just tryin' to connect the dots here. Looks like none of 'em lead to you." He turned to Maggie. "Sorry, Maggie, for interruptin'. Just tryin' to do my job." And just as quickly as he'd arrived, the sheriff was gone.

"What do you suppose this is all about?" Maggie asked me.

"I wish I had an answer for ya, Maggie. I'm just as much in the dark as the sheriff. What do ya know about the guy that owns the Bar J?"

"Johnny Farrel? Do you really want to talk about Johnny Farrel?" She'd moved closer to me while asking her questions and was back in my arms, although this time my hands were dry. And the sheriff was gone.

XXXXXXXX

By the time I left Maggie's it was early afternoon, and I still hadn't gotten any sleep. I headed back to the hotel, determined to at least get a nap in, and was pleased to find the room empty. That meant Bret was feeling good enough to still be at Pete's, and I might actually get some rest. Sleep better come soon or I was going to be among the missing that night at poker.

I had just settled into the bed and gotten comfortable when I heard Bret's key in the door. I kept my eyes closed; hoping that he'd take the hint and let me 'sleep.' And for a few minutes after I heard him come in he actually did. I had just surrendered to the arms of Hypnos (Morpheus is the God of dreams, not sleep) when my brother yanked me back out. "Bart, Brother Bart, wake up. There's a wire here from Buckley you need to read."

"Huh? What?" Even though I had just fallen asleep it was a rather rude awakening. I had no sooner managed to open my eyes than a message from the telegram office was shoved into my hands. "What's it say?" I blinked sleepily.

"Read it yourself," was Bret's reply.

"Can't focus," I complained. Bret, bless his heart, took it back and read it out loud.

"Rally Simmons died at thirty-three. Your man must be older brother Evan. Con artist from way back. Have fun. Dandy."

"Ah, damn." My turn to use the word now. I tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes and sat up, more confused than ever. If Rally Simmons was really Evan Simmons, what was he doing in a town like Sioux Falls? And why had he been here so long? What was going on in this town that we hadn't found out about yet?

"Who is this guy?" Bret asked.

I blinked groggily. "I have no idea. Maybe I oughtta go find out."

"Might not be a bad idea. How long didja get to sleep?"

"About five minutes," I answered while I wiped my face down with the towel over by the wash basin.

"Five minutes? Where in the heck . . . . . . . never mind. Maggie whatshername."

"Sawyer, Brother Bret. Her last name is Sawyer. And just what have you been up to all this time?"

He grinned at me, then shifted his position and went "ouch." "Before or after Marshal irritating-as-all-get-out came to see me, you mean?"

"Never mind," I told him. When he starts getting cute with his answers, I know all I need to.

I really didn't want to make my second visit of the day to Doc Demmers office, but it seemed like I was going to. It was beginning to look less and less like poker was in this night's future. I got dressed, again, and told Bret, "Don't get comfortable. Yer goin' with me."

I helped him put his coat back on and grabbed mine. "Where we goin', by the way?"

"To the doctor's office," I told him, and he obediently followed me. "How's yer arm today?"

"Still hurts, if that's what ya mean."

"Doc can check it out while I talk to Simmons." I didn't know what to call him anymore. His name was Evan, but we all knew him as Rally. I opened the door when we got there and ushered Bret inside. Doc Demmers came out into the front room and brightened just a bit when he saw my brother.

"Mr. Maverick, come in, come in. I assume you want me to take a look at the arm?"

"Would you please, Doc? Brother Bart needs to cause more trouble with Simmons."

I needed to know something first. "Is June still here, Doc?"

"No, she left about thirty minutes ago. Is that important?"

I nodded. "It could be, Doc. I need to talk to your other patient again."

"He was awake just now, so go on in. Just remember – "

"I know. No upsetting the patient," I promised.

The patient was indeed awake. And he must have sensed that what was coming was going to be unpleasant in one way or another; there was a look on his face that I hadn't seen before. Fear.


	18. Boot Hill Redux

Chapter 18 – Boot Hill Redux

"Back so soon?" Rally asked, trying to sound braver than he looked.

"Got some more questions I need to ask."

"June alright?"

"I haven't seen her since I brought her in this mornin'." He laid there and watched, waiting for me to make the first move. So I did. "Evan Simmons."

He finally sighed and relief flooded his face. Not that he wasn't frightened anymore, but at least now he knew what he was dealing with. "Yeah," he murmured.

"Wanna tell me about Evan Simmons?"

"Not really. He wasn't a very good person."

I sat down on June's chair. "Wanna tell me anyway?"

"No, but I don't have much choice, do I?" He paused for a minute, like he was trying to catch his breath, and started. "Evan Simmons was the oldest of three brothers. Middle brother named Raleigh, Rally for short, youngest Nicholas. Evan was a scoundrel. A cheat, a card sharp, a con man. Rally was an investment speculator, Nicholas, a lawyer. Rally was murdered at thirty-three by somebody Evan conned out of money. Evan knew he wanted to change, to quit and be legitimate, but his reputation followed him everywhere. So he studied everything that Rally was involved in, and when he had a fair idea of what he was doing, Evan Simmons died.

"Rally Simmons moved to Kansas City, then relocated to Sioux Falls. He was honest, and hardworking, and made a nice life for himself. Then one day Evan's past caught up to Rally. Johnny Farrel came to town and bought a small ranch, and got reacquainted with Evan." Rally paused for a minute, trying to catch his breath. I was in no hurry; I was willing to wait. A few minutes later he resumed.

"Farrel threatened to blow Rally's life apart if there wasn't something in it for him. So Evan started gambling, to win enough money to pay Farrel off. Instead, he lost and had to cheat several investors out of their funds to keep the Bar J owner happy. Every time he thought he was rid of Farrel, he found out he was wrong. He found somebody that loved him, and made him feel . . . . . . secure. So he went to Farrel to find out how to end the association for good. Like he could do that. It didn't go so well."

Sounded like Rally was out of breath again, so I asked a question. "And on the way back, Farrel's boys caught up with him?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. This had nothing to do with Johnny Farrel."

I could certainly understand if it did. But Rally insisted it didn't. So who was mad enough at Rally to beat him nearly to death?

"Was Tom Miller mixed up in all this?"

Simmons tried to nod; it didn't work. "Tom was a friend. To both Rally and Evan. He tried to help, even going so far as to propose turning the store over to Johnny as the final blackmail payment. Farrel had one of his men kill Tom to show Evan he meant business."

"Bobby Durfee?" I asked, although I'd already guessed the answer.

Rally looked at me like I'd just read his mind. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Bobby Durfee's dead."

That was met with absolute silence. Finally Rally said, "So how'd you find out about Evan?"

"Dandy Jim Buckley."

"Buckley. It figures. He always ran his mouth too much."

"Dandy owed me a favor." I was thinking about a poker tournament in Cheyenne, Wyoming, where I'd endured . . . . let's just say, a lot in Dandy's stead.

"And now that you know, who am I gonna be when I get over this pain?"

"One question before I give you an answer to yours, and I want the truth. Does Rally love June Morgan?"

I waited a long time for the response, and when it came it was barely audible. "Yes."

Then I gave him an answer that I think surprised him. "Get well, Rally."

XXXXXXXX

"So Doc looked everything over and pronounced it looked good; then he changed the bandage."

"Uh-huh."

"And he painted it blue for good measure."

"Uh-huh. Wait, what?"

My brother at it again. "Wanted to see if you were listenin'."

"I was, but I was thinkin', too."

"Thinkin' about what?"

"That I need some sleep."

"What time do you play poker?"

I couldn't remember, I was so tired. "Uh, ten o'clock."

Bret pulled out the watch he'd transferred to his right vest pocket so he could get to it easier with his left hand. "You can get four or five hours sleep if you hurry."

"If I hurry? Does that mean – "

"That I'm goin' back to Pete's? Yeah," Bret said finally. "Room's all yours."

"You're a good man, Bret Maverick," I told him and turned left while he turned right. In less than five minutes I was lying in bed, my gun and holster next to me, and praying that nobody knocked on or unlocked the door.

 _I was paying no attention to where the mare was walking and I almost missed the turn for the graveyard. When I headed her that way she shook her head and whinnied, as if saying "no." "Gotta go see Pappy," I told her, using the name I'd thrown at Bret whenever I felt him being too fatherly._

 _The hill appeared in front of me, with its dozens of crosses, markers and gravestones. It was impressive and startling. The sky had darkened and a storm loomed overhead, threatening to spill her deluge down at any moment. I really didn't care; it wouldn't be the first time I'd been rained on, and it probably wouldn't be the last._

 _I dismounted and tied the mare to the gatepost entrance to the burial ground. It was easy to find the grave – mounds of fresh dirt were piled up on it. Bret's was the last interment on the hill._

 _A chill went up my spine. There was a plain wooden cross at the head of the grave, with 'Bret Maverick' printed on it._ _ **'NO'**_ _was the only word in my mind._ _ **'NO, THIS IS WRONG. IT CAN'T BE.'**_ _I forced myself to walk closer. Even the rumbling in the heavens silenced as I approached my brother's final resting place, and all I could hear were my own footsteps on hallowed ground. My mind revolted, my stomach rolled, and my hands shook. I noticed that when I reached up to take my hat off. There was no one around, and as sobs wracked my body, I fell to my knees at the foot of the grave. Then without further warning the thunder cracked and the lightning flashed, and the rain began to fall in torrents. I howled in pain like an animal, much as I had in Mexico, the night I remembered everything I'd lost. That agony seemed minor in comparison to what I felt now._

 _I sobbed for long minutes, and I kept repeating over and over "No, no, no, no, no, no." All the love, admiration and gratitude I'd felt for my older brother my whole life spilled out on the earth, and the emotions I'd held in check from the moment I first read the telegram in Reno until now fell on the grave. The wind wailed and I wailed right along with it until every shred of feeling I possessed was drained from my body, and I had no more tears to shed. I collapsed on the wet earth and lay on my brother's grave until the rain stopped and nighttime blackness fell._

 _At last, when I became aware that I could stay there no longer, I raised myself from the ground and got to my feet. My body walked back to the horse tethered at the gate, but my soul stayed at the burial site, and I knew there would be no peace for me._

I gasped for air and bolted upright in bed. I'd lived that nightmare before in Dodge City when I thought for sure that Bret was dead and buried, and the story from Evan Simmons had brought it all back. I understood how he felt, but at the same time I didn't understand at all. I didn't have the need to assume Bret's identity when he was killed; just the need to kill the man responsible for his death. Was that what was going on here? Was Johnny Farrel the man that had killed Rally Simmons? Or was I imagining something that wasn't real? Whichever it was, I knew there'd be no more sleep for me tonight. Maybe some poker would help.


	19. The Lost Soul

Chapter 19 – The Lost Soul

Poker doesn't help the buzzing in your head when you lose. That's what was going on with me. I was thinking about so many different problems that my almost-favorite-thing-in-life didn't get the attention it deserved, and my poker partners were the beneficiaries of my distraction. And they knew it.

About five in the morning Joe Mercer finally asked the question. "What's goin' on with you, Bart? Your heads not in this game."

It took me a minute to come up with an answer that would provide an explanation without revealing too much. "Sorry, got too many things on my mind tonight. Shoulda sat this one out."

Everybody but me found that funny. They were all happy that I'd played, distracted as I was, since my money was now residing in their pockets. I couldn't keep punishing myself like this and I set my cards down. "I'm done for the night. Deal me out." They accommodated me, and I put my coat on and left. I had no desire to stay at the Lady when I had no desire to play. And this was one of those times that it didn't matter how cold it was outside, I needed some space between me and everything else.

I went to the livery and spent some time grooming Noble, who let me know in no uncertain terms that he wasn't happy with my lack of attention over the last few days. Once I'd made peace with my rather prickly gelding, I saddled him and we went out for a slow walk in the snow. I had no idea where the Bar J Ranch was but I decided to try and find it, and it only used about an hour of time before there was somebody's spread in sight. Since it was passed sunup at this point, I didn't feel too bad about playing 'lost traveler' and eventually arrived at the main house. I know, careless move, taking a chance like that, but I never pretended to be a genius at this sort of thing. Sometimes I think I stumble through life by dumb luck. Sometimes I'm sure I do.

I tied Noble up out front and crossed the porch to knock on the door. "Coming!" I heard a woman's voice sing out. In a few seconds a lovely woman in her thirties opened the door.

With a "Yes?" I went into my best "I'm sorry ma'am, but somehow I'm lost" routine and bless her heart, she welcomed me in and offered me coffee before I went back on my way towards Sioux Falls. I introduced myself as Bartley Jamison, Bank Examiner, and confessed to going for an early morning ride and losing my way. She was Mrs. John Farrel and was more than happy to assist 'the poor confused' soul who'd shown up at her door.

We talked for a few minutes and she joined me in drinking coffee. The unfortunate woman probably felt sorry for the idiot that couldn't remember which direction town was in, and I found her to be pleasant, concerned, and chatty. We finally got around to her husband (who was off tending to some lost cattle - guess I'm not the only thing lost this morning) and the sad fate that had befallen the last man who'd come to visit.

"I've met Mr. Siimmons at the bank. He certainly seemed to be a pleasant enough fellow. I can't imagine something that awful happening to an innocent man." I gave her my best sympathetic smile and waited for a response.

"I know, it's just terrible," Clara (her given name) agreed with me. "And Rally was just here right before it happened. He and Johnny have been friends for a long, long time. They knew each other back in St. Louis, before Johnny and I ever met."

I shook my head in sympathy. "Who would do such a thing?" I asked innocently.

"Well, one of the ranch hands said he saw a woman drive up in a buggy and join Rally as they got to the edge of our property. I don't know if that's true or not, of course, but Bobby isn't given to exaggeration. So I suspect he was being honest."

"I can't imagine a lady driving out to meet someone unless it was for something . . . . . . "

Clara jumped in eagerly. "I know. Something that a lady shouldn't be doing. Of course, there's no way to find out who it was, now, since Bobby's out with my husband looking for lost cows. Awful beasts, those things. They just wander off with no rhyme or reason."

It was evident Clara Farrel didn't know Bobby wasn't off with her husband. We chatted for a few more minutes and I finished my coffee and made ready to leave. I didn't think I could get any more useful information out of Mrs. Farrel and wanted to get back to town. She was still talking and I hadn't been paying attention until I heard the name "June Morgan."

"I'm sorry, what was that about Mrs. Morgan?"

"Not Mrs. Morgan, Miss Morgan. I said it could have been June Morgan, since it's well-known around town that she's been throwing herself at poor Rally. Of course he's too much of a gentleman to outright reject her advances, but I'm sure he wasn't interested. June Morgan is a little . . . . . . well, you know. Not quite right in the head."

"No, I didn't know that. Mrs. Farrel, thank you for your kindness. I appreciate the coffee and the directions back to town. And the information regarding Miss Morgan. I shall certainly . . . . . be aware of the situation from now on." I tipped my hat and made my way back outside to Noble. Clara Farrel had been a treasure trove of information and I wanted to get back to Sioux Falls so I could send another wire to St. Louis. I needed to know who killed Rally Simmons.

XXXXXXXX

After I wired Buckley, I went back to the hotel to see about breakfast and that ever elusive object called sleep. If I knew Dandy I wouldn't get an answer until tonight at the earliest, and I was still exhausted. As soon as my belly was full I headed upstairs and found Bret just getting ready to leave. He was actually glad to see me.

"I was worried about you, Brother Bart. I went down to pay the livery this mornin' and found Noble gone. Where in the world did you go in this weather?"

"I had an errand to run." That was all the information I was gonna give him until I got some answers to my newest questions. "Where are you off to this early?"

"Breakfast with Constance. I'm meeting her at the saloon and then we're goin' to Minnie's. You headed to bed?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna try this again. Maybe my nightmares won't wake me up this time."

I got a look of sympathy from my brother. He knew all about my nightmares, having lived through them with me as we were growing up. And I hadn't told him half of the ones I'd had as an adult. Something in my expression must have tipped him off that this wasn't your ordinary run-of-the-mill bad dream, because he didn't push me for an explanation, just put his left arm around my shoulders and squeezed.

"Thanks," I told him. And then he was gone, and the bed and I were left to do some serious conversing.

This time I actually got to sleep until I woke up of my own free will. No nightmares, no strangers banging on the door, no brother bringing in you-must-read-this-now telegrams. I was surprised, to say the least, but I finally had a clear head and a functional brain. Well, functional for me. I needed to talk to somebody about all the information I had, and I wasn't sure who I could trust besides my brother. I assumed him to be up at Pete's with Constance, so I grabbed my coat and headed there. To my surprise, neither one of them was in and the bartender professed not to have seen them for quite a while. I thought about going to the Morgan house but thought better of it. If Bret and Constance . . . . . well, let's just say I wasn't inclined to interrupt anything that might or might not be going on. I guess I was gonna have to figure this one out for myself.


	20. Pretty Woman

Chapter 20 – Pretty Woman

Maggie was working at the hotel dining room and didn't get off until sometime after ten o'clock. Strange as it sounded that only left me with June Morgan or Rally to talk to. I was afraid that I'd only confuse June, so I went back to Doc Demmers office. I think he'd finally gotten used to me coming in because he'd given up the 'Mr. Maverick' and called me what I'd asked him to the previous two times – Bart. "Back for another visit with Rally?" he asked when he realized it was me.

"Yes, sir, how is he today?"

"Better than yesterday," was Doc's answer. He didn't bother with the warning today, and I figured that was a good sign. I walked into the exam room just as June was getting ready to leave. "See, Rally, you won't be alone. Bart will be here with you until I get back. Won't you, Bart?"

"Where ya goin', June?"

"Home to get a book. I'll be right back."

I nodded. "Sure. I'll be here."

Once she was gone and the door was closed, I sat down. "Getting real regular, aren't you, Maverick?"

"Yep. Still tryin' to put all the pieces of the puzzle together."

"Didn't know I was a puzzle," Rally almost chuckled. "Ouch."

"Yeah, don't laugh. It'll hurt too much."

He shifted his eyes to take a good look at me. "You sound like you know what this feels like."

"I do."

"Somebody tried to kill you?"

' _More than once,'_ I thought. Out loud I said "Yep. Pistol whipped. Wasn't supposed to live. I had somebody that sat at my bedside, too. That's not what I came here to talk to you about."

"No, I guess not."

I leaned forward to get closer so we could talk as quietly as possible. "I had a nice, long chat with Clara Farrel this morning."

"With Mrs. Farrel? Why?"

"Because you wouldn't tell me who did this to you."

"I told you it wasn't Johnny."

"Yes, I know. But you wouldn't tell me who it was."

"That hasn't changed."

The next one caught him by surprise. "A woman in a buggy met you at the edge of the Farrel property."

"Where'd you get that?"

"From Clara Farrel."

"She's a gossip."

"She may be a gossip, but she's telling the truth, isn't she, Rally?"

"She's wrong."

I watched him as his eyes darted back and forth like he was frantically looking for a way out of this. And he got one, temporarily, because June returned with a book and a smile on her face. She waltzed into the room, bent over and kissed him on the cheek. Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed me in the same spot. "My two favorite men."

This was a different June, a transformed woman. She was sweet, and sincere, and self-assured; not scatter-brained and odd the way she'd been when we first met. Maybe it was because she knew, at last, that Rally cared for her the way she cared for him. Something had soothed and calmed her, and the change was noticeable. I wasn't about to say or do anything that affected the new June in any way.

My cue to leave. "Take good care of him, June, we need him back at the poker table."

"I will, Bart. Thanks for sitting with him."

That didn't solve my problems. I still needed to work this out, and I was getting nowhere fast. Clara Farrel had been telling the truth; it was indeed a woman that met Rally at the edge of the property. Now I needed to find out which woman.

XXXXXXXX

I paid a lot more attention to poker that night. I'd played so badly the night before that I had no intention of losing two nights in a row. Fortunately, Lady Luck gave me some good cards and I made the most of them. By about the third or fourth hour of the game, Calvin spoke up and said, "I knew it was too good to last."

"What's that, Calvin?" came from Zeke.

"Bart losing for a second straight night." Everybody at the table laughed, including me.

I tried to concentrate on the game and not all the questions that threatened to envelop me. I did a pretty good job of that, considering all the voices I could hear clamoring for attention.

It was almost six o'clock when everybody finally had enough of losing and we called it a night. I was ready for the day to be over but had one more stop before I went back to the hotel. Maggie Sawyer's.

She was up and waiting for me. I wanted to take her out for breakfast, but she had other plans. So once again I sat and drank coffee, this time in the kitchen, while she cooked for us. Maggie told me about her night and we laughed over some of the things that seemed to happen only to her. The full-time job at Minnie's had finally come through, and she was taking a day off before she started her regular shift, from ten at night until six in the morning. "Isn't that gonna be hard to get used to?" I asked her.

By that time we were on the settee, Maggie sitting drinking coffee and me lying down with my head in her lap. "Doesn't make any difference," she told me. "At least that way I'll be awake when you are. It might give us more time to . . . . . . "

"To do what?" I teased her.

"Anything we want to," she answered, and leaned down to kiss me. It was a sweet kiss, a good strong statement of . . . . . what? I didn't know. Was I falling in love with this girl? Not sure. Was she falling in love with me? Not sure about that either. We had fun together, enjoyed each other's company. It was comfortable spending time with her. That's about all I knew for sure. That was good enough for now.

It didn't take much for me to fall asleep, and before long I did so. Bless her heart, she sat there with my head in her lap and let me sleep for almost two hours without moving. When she finally did move and I woke up, it didn't take much persuading to get her to lie down and let me hold her close. Within minutes we were both asleep and stayed that way most of the morning.

The next thing I heard was the clock chiming noon. She was still in my arms and I kissed her nose and whispered, "Maggie, it's twelve o'clock already."

"Mmmm-hmmm," was the answer I got, but she'd said something earlier about going to the store for supplies and I wanted to help her. If I was gonna continue eating her food the least I could do was pay for some of that same food and carry it home for her.

"Maggie, come on. It's time to get up and go shopping." That seemed to stir her.

Her blue eyes came open and looked at me. They were so close I could kiss them, and I did. Then I kissed that beautiful mouth, and all the voices that had been clamoring for attention in my head shut up and left me alone. There was only one voice I wanted to listen to, and it belonged to the woman lying in my arms.


	21. A Day Off

Chapter 21 – A Day Off

We were in Tom (now Sammy) Miller's General Store checking items off Maggie's list when I had one of those moments. Maggie had turned around and said, "Can you think of anything else, Mr. Maverick?" and the whole world flashed in front of my eyes and I staggered, suddenly dizzy. She reached out and grabbed for my arm, and it was only because of her quick thinking that I didn't fall.

"Are you alright?" she asked, real concern in her voice.

How could I tell her that there was nothing physically wrong with me, that the only problem I had was one of a long ago memory that reared its head and jolted me to my core? Of Caroline Crawford, the first time we'd gone into the store in Dry Springs, New Mexico and she called me Mr. Maverick? I, in turn, had called her Mrs. Maverick, and it sounded perfectly normal. Finally my head cleared enough that I could nod. "Yeah, sorry, I'm fine."

"That's all, Mr. Wilson," Maggie told the clerk, and against her protests I paid for the supplies. Then I picked up the box and carried them out, Maggie grabbing hold of my arm. Whether it was to steady herself or me, I'm not sure. It worked, and by the time we got back to her little house I really was fine. I put everything down on the kitchen table and she looked at me kind of sideways. "Are you sure you're alright?"

I even managed a small laugh. "Really, I'm fine. Somethin' . . . . . . somethin' from the past, that's all. Nothin' to worry about."

"Something physical?"

"Nope."

"Something you don't want to talk about?" I'll give her this, she was gentle but persistent.

"Yeah, somethin' that belongs right where it is, in the past." It had taken a long time for me to get around the memory of Caroline and what happened in New Mexico, and that's exactly where I wanted it to stay.

She didn't push any further, and I helped her put the supplies away. I probably should have gotten out of there and gone to track down my brother, to see if I could put this puzzle I'd inherited together, but I had no desire to leave. It was a pleasant day and I was enjoying the peace and quiet, and Maggie. I needed a day off at least as much as she did. We were having a good time, laughing and talking about nothing more important than which eggs were better, white or brown, and I had no desire for it to end. Sometimes you just gotta sit still for five minutes, you know?

I discovered Maggie was a pretty decent whist player, and we played most of the afternoon. She played poker, too, but wasn't quite as good at that. I insisted on taking her to dinner. Which required some personal maintenance on my part. "I'll be back for you in half an hour, I promise," I told her, and she laughed and shook her head.

"No, I'm coming with you. I'll wait for you in the sitting room at the hotel."

I gave that a moment's thought and decided she had a point. The way my life went, as soon as I was out of her sight somebody would need me for something and we'd never get to dinner. So we got her all bundled up in her coat and then left for the hotel. It was already dark out and the wind had kicked back up; I tried to shield her from its cold and bite.

I still don't know who the bullet was meant for, although I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hurt Maggie. It wasn't until later that I found out who shot at us. I pushed her into the doorway and protected her as best I could as I pulled my gun and tried to see in the direction the shot had come from. Nothing and no one was visible in the darkness. The hotel was two doors ahead and I told Maggie, "Run when I get to three. One, two, three . . . . . " and she ran as I turned and fired to provide enough cover for her, then I turned and ran myself. I was almost at the hotel door when I heard the second gunshot and felt the sting in my back. It hurt like hell, but then they always do.

I fell inside the hotel door and crashed to the floor, hearing a loud 'crack' as my head caught the edge of a table in the hotel lobby. I've no idea what happened after that. Some time later I opened my eyes slowly and with difficulty to find everything swimming in front of me, and a burning pain in my back and all through the left side of my body. It wasn't like the rifle shot in Mexico that almost killed me, but it was agonizing enough on its own. My forehead was throbbing as my vision steadily cleared and Maggie's blue eyes came into focus. She caressed the side of my face with her hand while she murmured. "That's it, Bart, just come back to me now."

"Didn't know I'd left," I mumbled and she laughed softly.

"Doc's here now," she told me, and her face was replaced by the not-quite-as beautiful Doctor Demmers. He wiped my face with something, the spot near my right eye where I'd hit the table, and the mere touch of his fingers made my vision blur all over again. It stung for just a minute and gradually the pain diminished. I wish I could say the same for my back.

"I gotta get ya moved, son," he told me, and only then did I realize I was in an exam room. Before I could ask him how I'd gotten here, I felt hands roll me over on my stomach and heard my shirt being ripped open.

"Guess that just went the way a my coat, huh?" a familiar voice asked, and I knew how I'd gotten from the hotel to Doc's office. _'Wait a minute,'_ one of the voices in my head told me. _'How'd he do that with one arm?"_

Before I could actually ask the question Doc was poking around in my back and when he hit the spot where the bullet had caught me I just about went through the ceiling. "Hmmmmpf," Doc muttered, and I didn't like the sound of that. It meant the bullet was still in there and he was gonna have to dig for it. "Whiskey?" was the next thing that came out of Doc's mouth, and I heard Bret answer him quietly.

"No."

"Get Maggie outta here," I muttered through clenched teeth, and I heard a door open and close, with footsteps in between. "Now you can dig for it, Doc," I told him, knowing full good and well that Mavericks tend to pass out when there's too much blood - or pain. I fulfilled my responsibility as a true Maverick progeny and woke up just as he was finishing the last stitch.

"Just think," I heard my brother tell me, "now you've got matching scars."

"No comfort," I mumbled. Bret walked into my line of sight and bent down to get closer. I noticed he no longer had his arm in a sling.

"Who was it, Bart?" he asked me, an edge to his voice.

"Don't know, Pappy," I told him honestly. "Take Maggie to dinner, would ya?"

"You sure?" he asked me. "I hate to leave ya alone."

"Goin' to sleep," I told him. I felt his hand on my shoulder and then he took me at my word and his footsteps went to the door. My back hurt, my head ached. It had been such a good day, ruined by a bullet. As I drifted off into the land of the asleep or unconscious I had only one thought – I was sure glad Maggie was safe.


	22. Popularity

Chapter 22 – Popularity

I woke up to pain, which was nothing new. My head didn't hurt anymore but my eye, where I'd caught the table in my fall, certainly did. And I won't even tell you what my back felt like. I've woken up and felt worse, so I wasn't about to complain.

I was in bed rather than the exam table. Again, I wondered who'd done the moving. I was beginning to feel like a piece of luggage. Then it suddenly occurred to me – Rally Simmons and I could be roommates. Wouldn't he be excited to hear that?

For just a minute I thought I was alone, but when I paid attention to the sounds in the room, I could hear soft breathing. Odds are it was Maggie because there's no way my brother is ever that quiet when he sleeps. I twisted my neck slightly and, sure enough, a female head lying on my bed appeared, but it wasn't Maggie. It took me a full minute before I recognized the head as June Morgan's.

"June," I called, with no response. I tried a little louder. "June." My eye throbbed, but June heard me.

"Mmmmmmm," she mumbled as she raised her head. "Oh, Bart. You're awake. Good. I was worried."

"S'matter, June? Rally kick you out?"

She giggled, a sound I hadn't heard from her before. "No, silly, I just sat down with you so your brother could go get cleaned up. He was here when I got in this morning. I guess I just fell asleep."

"How's Rally this mornin'?" I asked her. And why hadn't she run from Bret in terror, the way she had the last time?

"A little better. He told me to tell you - let's see, what did he say exactly? 'Tell him to keep his nose where it belongs.' Do you know what he meant?"

"I do, and I thank him for the unsolicited advice. When you see him, tell him there's not a snowball's chance in hell. He'll understand."

I heard the door open, and my brother's voice. "Who'll understand what?"

I reached out with my right hand and grasped June's hand. "Go on back to Rally, June. And thanks."

She leaned over and kissed my cheek, then disappeared from my vision. Brother Bret moved into it. "Hey, son, how ya doin' this mornin'?"

"Starvin'," I told him. "Help me sit up, would ya?"

"You sure you wanna do that?"

"Sure." He grabbed my right hand and pulled me into a sitting position.

"Ouch. Thanks. Didja think to bring me a shirt that wasn't ripped?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Have you so little faith in me after all these years? Of course I did. Let's see what we can do about gettin' one off and the other on, hmmm?"

Between the two of us we managed to do just that. If I thought my back hurt before, it was nothing compared to the flair of pain that was there now. Bret saw the grimace on my face. "You wanted up, son."

"I know it. I also want food. Any chance of that?"

"Can you get up?" He held out his hand and I swung my legs over the bed and grabbed the hand. It was easier to stand up than to put the shirt on. "How about a coat?"

Actually he was referring to my suit coat, which would do until I could get another one. Then came the hard part, the thick winter coat. "Still freezin' outside, huh?" I asked unnecessarily.

"You know it is. It's gonna freeze until spring." He sighed, and I was certain that Bret wanted that as much as I did. Of course, spring would bring two more problems with it, named Dickie and Jed. "The hotel or Minnie's?"

"No question," I told him. "Minnie's. A little help here?" I asked him as I staggered a bit. Bret grabbed my elbow and held me steady as he guided me across the room. Just as he reached for the door knob it opened and the doctor stood before us.

"Where do you think you're goin'?" he questioned.

"To get breakfast, of course," I told him.

"I wish you wouldn't leave just yet," Doc answered. "I'd like to take another look at that wound."

"I'll make ya a deal, Doc. I'll come back after I've eaten, okay?"

"See to it that you do. How's the eye this morning? Any problems with vision?"

"Nope. Pain, yes. Vision, no."

"You got a hell of a shiner there, son," the doctor commented. I bet I was a beautiful sight.

"Yeah, but you should see the other guy."

That caused Bret to laugh. "Good thing you've got a sense of humor to offset that lack a brains," my brother added. Always pleasant when your relatives make fun of you.

We could hear the front door open and close, and in just a minute Maggie was standing in the doorway, looking horrified that I was out of bed. "Why are you up?"

"Because my stomach's askin' why I'm still not fed," I replied. "Good mornin' to you, too, Miss Sawyer."

She stepped up to the side I'd been shot. "Can I take your arm?"

"Gently," was my answer. "Shall we go visit your new employer?"

And the three of us made our way carefully out the door and down to Minnie's.

XXXXXXXX

It was just as I'd feared. When Bret had taken Maggie to dinner at my insistence last night he'd filled her full of tales of our childhood. And she had the same question most people had – who set the chicken on fire?

"Cousin Beau," I answered.

"Cousin Beau," Bret echoed. "Of course – "

"I did not," I interrupted. "Didn't you tell her anything reasonable last night?"

"Nope. Just warned her what a scalawag you were. I thought that was the least I could do for her. Oh, forgot to tell ya, I took yer place at the Lady last night. Figured that was the best thing ta do."

"Gee, thanks. Bet they'll be glad to see me back."

Bret laughed between bites of bacon. "Yeah, they will. Good group there. They were all concerned. Especially Calvin. Said he didn't want ya as a customer."

"Nice to know somebody missed me." I must have looked morose, because Maggie reached over and took my hand. I gave hers a squeeze and reached for my coffee with my left hand. Bad move. And both my companions saw that on my face.

"Brother Bart – "

"I know, I know. Ya just got shot, idiot. I got it."

We were almost done eating when Dan Manning came in, and I knew right away he was looking for me. "I was right," he said as he shook off leaves and snow. "You two been nothin' but trouble since ya got here. Maggie, best be careful around these boys. They're either bad news or bad luck, and I ain't sure which."

"I'll take my chances, Sheriff." She accompanied that statement with a big smile, and like everyone else in the vicinity, he was dazzled by that and the sparkling blue eyes.

"What happened?" The question was directed at me, of course.

"Don't know," I answered. "We were goin' back to the hotel and somebody started shootin'."

"And it just happened to be at you?"

I couldn't shrug my shoulders without causing pain, so I told him, "Just lucky, I guess."

Manning turned to Maggie "And you were there?"

"I was with Bart at the time, yes."

"Did you see anything?"

Maggie shook her head. "I heard the shot, Bart shoved me into the doorway and protected me, then he returned fire while I ran for the hotel. I got inside with Bart not far behind me, but he was hit. That's all I know, Sheriff Manning."

"And where were you two comin' from?"

"My house."

Manning kept asking questions. "And before that?"

Even Maggie was getting frustrated with him. "We were there all day, Sheriff."

"All day?"

"Since about six-thirty in the morning."

"Oh."

"Any more questions, Sheriff?" I asked.

"Not for now. I'd say don't leave town, but you ain't goin' anywhere."

Bret hadn't said a word during the whole exchange, but as Manning walked towards the door he finally remarked, "He doesn't much care for us, does he?"

"He's that way with everybody," Maggie explained. "But he's got a big heart."

"Would be nice ta see some of it," I told her. "Well, Miss Maggie, you should go home. I'll come by later, assumin' I'm still on my feet. Brother Bret, how bout we grab one a my other coats before we go back to see Doc?"

"We can do that, as long as you let me go up and get it."

"Don't worry, I have no intention of climbin' those stairs just yet."

Breakfast was paid for, coats were gotten on, and we left Minnie's. Bret took Maggie home after I promised to wait for him downstairs in the hotel. I wasn't moving real fast, but at least I was moving. And by the time I got to the hotel I was more than ready to sit and wait for big brother to get back. I felt better by the time he came through the hotel doors.

"Which coat? Any preference?"

"Anything black," I answered as he started upstairs.

It was more than a few minutes before he came back, and there was a worried look on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked as he got within earshot.

"Somebody was in our room."

"You sure?"

He gave me that 'poor younger brother touched in the head' look. "Of course I'm sure. Everything looks alright, and I couldn't find anything missin', but things were moved around. Whoever was in there was careful."

"Can't imagine what somebody was lookin' for."

"Maybe it was who rather than what."

That was something to think about. If Dickie and Jed weren't in Sioux Falls, who else was after me?


	23. Consequences

Chapter 23 – Consequences

My stomach might've been happier with me, but I knew I'd done the wrong thing by the time we got back to the doctor's office. Once Bret helped me with my coats and my shirt, I could tell that I'd broken the stitches open and there was bleeding going on. When Doctor Demmers unwrapped his bandaged work, I heard the "Well, damn," and knew what was coming.

"I gotta re-stitch you, boy," he pronounced, and I had no one to blame but myself. "And this time you're not going anywhere afterwards."

I glanced at Bret and he was shaking his head. "Don't be givin' me that. You've done the same thing," I told him. "Not even over to Maggie Sawyers house if I promise to rest and not leave?" I asked, practically begging to be released from the doctor's office.

"Only if I get to talk to Maggie first," Doc answered.

I looked at Bret. "Could you?" I pleaded, and Bret sighed.

"Be right back," he answered, putting his coat on again.

"Sure you don't want some whiskey?" Doc asked.

"I'm sure," I told him.

He was just getting started with the stitching by the time Bret and Maggie got back. I sat there and gritted my teeth while he re-stitched and discussed my future behavior with Maggie.

"Keep him still, Maggie. No getting up and walking around, no using that arm for anything. For anything, understand?"

"Yes, sir," she laughed.

"Ow!" I yelled as he hit a particularly tender spot. If I expected sympathy from any of them, I was out of luck.

Doc ignored me and continued instructing Maggie. "And I want you to change the bandage twice a day, and clean it off with what I give you before you re-bandage it."

"Maggie, you don't hafta do this. I can go back to the hotel room."

"No, sir, you cannot. If Maggie won't take care of you, you just have to stay here." Doc was gonna be stubborn about things. "Since you seem to be so well acquainted with Rally, you two can stay in the same room."

I looked at Maggie. "I'll do whatever I'm told," I promised her.

"Get that in writin', Maggie," Bret whispered to her. He thought I couldn't hear him.

"Never sign anything," I reminded him, quoting Pappy.

"WOULD YOU SIT STILL?"

I sat still. Who knew Doc could yell that loud?

When he was done Bret helped with my shirt and coat again. Doc looked to Maggie. "Are you taking him?" he asked her.

She nodded her head, thank God. I had no desire to bunk with Rally Simmons. Bret helped me get up, and this time I intended to do what the doctor told me. With Bret on one side practically holding me up and Maggie on the other side we left the office, headed to Maggie's house. "Guess you get to play poker another night," I told my brother, but he shook his head.

"Nope, I'm goin' back to Pete's. Constance is plenty upset about June and Simmons. Didja know he asked her to marry him?"

I grinned. "Nope, but that explains why June's like a different person."

By the time we got to Maggie's, I was worn out. She got me settled on the settee while Bret started a fire, then insisted on taking my boots off. "What's that for, Pappy?" I asked.

"You're not goin' anywhere without your boots. That's the only way I can guarantee it. And you can't put 'em on yourself, so I think it may be safe for me to leave." The man is downright sneaky. "What time do you go to work, Maggie?"

"I start at ten o'clock, Bret. Why?"

"I'll come by right before you leave and stay for a while, just to check on yer stubborn patient. That alright by you?"

"Certainly," she told him. "There's a spare room here, you're welcome to stay if he needs you."

"Hello," I said from the settee. "I'm alive over here. I can hear you both."

"Do you need anything?" Bret asked before he went out the door.

Maggie shook her head. "No. We went to the store yesterday."

Bret gave me a look. "Ya did, huh? Don't let him give ya a hard time. And you," he said, pointing at me, "behave yourself."

"What else am I gonna do?"

Maggie laughed and closed the door behind him. She shook her head as she came back over and sat down in a chair next to where they had me trapped. "Your brother loves you a lot."

I started to shake my head but quickly thought better of it. "Naw, he'd just miss the aggravation if I wasn't around."

"How about some coffee?"

"You read my mind."

She talked to me as she made the coffee. "Bret told me about the year you were lost in Arizona."

"I wasn't lost. I knew exactly where I was." There he was again, tellin' stories on me. Of course, he could only tell her what he knew about it.

"The year you thought you were Doc Holliday," she corrected herself.

That I couldn't deny. "It was an . . . . . . . interestin' period in my life."

"You really believed it?"

"I did. So did everybody around me, too."

"Amy Stanhope." Maggie brought two cups of coffee over and set one down on the table next to her chair.

I hadn't thought about Amy for a while. "Amy, and her father Gage, and everybody that worked for them. To name just a few."

"You should have seen his eyes light up when he talked about the day he found you."

I changed subjects on her. "Did he tell you about Althea Taylor?"

"A little. It's obvious he still loves her."

This time I did nod. "To everybody but him. That's why I'm glad we're here. Time and distance, ya know?"

"It seems like he's gotten attached to Constance." I set my cup down. It was empty already.

"Yeah, but not like that. He needs somethin' to keep his mind occupied. When he comes back tonight, I need to discuss some things with him."

"Things you can't discuss with me?" she seemed a little sad about that.

"For your own protection," I told her. "There's things you don't know; that's what keeps you safe. I'd like to keep it that way."

"Like who it was that shot you?"

"No, I really don't know who it was. I have suspicions, but until I can find out some things that's all they are – suspicions."

"You're a careful man, aren't you?"

"I have to be. When Bret's not around, I've only got me to watch my back. You wouldn't believe some of the characters I've met."

"Don't you ever want to stay in one place?"

I thought about Dry Springs, and then Lakota Pass. "I did, once or twice."

"What happened?"

"Somethin' awful happened in the first place, and the second place didn't belong to me. So I left both of 'em."

"What about here?"

I almost laughed at that. "Winter's too cold. Besides, if I was gonna live in this climate, I'd go live in Montana. Our sister's there, and a business we both own part of."

"Why don't you then?" was her next question.

"Maybe someday. Not now. Too many places to see, things to do. Not ready to stay in one spot."

"Oh." I heard her disappointment in the way she said the word, but I wasn't going to lie to her. Even if I was ready to settle down, Sioux Falls was not where I would be doing it.


	24. Patience is a Virtue

Chapter 24 – Patience is a Virtue

Bret got there just as Maggie was about to leave, as promised earlier. I had just woken up and was glad I was finally getting a chance to go over things with my brother. I definitely needed another perspective on this whole situation.

I explained everything I'd heard from Rally, and told him about the difference in June since the proposal. Then he got the story on my visit with Clara Farrel and what I'd learned from her. Bret was still sitting, smoking a cigar and thinking, when I finished the tale. I waited a few minutes and when he didn't say anything I asked the first question, hoping that he could shed some light on anything. I had all this data, but I was at a loss when it came to putting it together.

"Do you have any idea why Constance is so dead-set against Rally and June being together?"

"She thinks he's after June's half of the saloon."

"I don't think that's foremost in his mind," I explained. "The only reason he wanted money was to try and buy Farrel's silence once and for all. And he insists Farrell had nothing to do with the beating. If what Clara told me was true, it makes no sense for June to meet Rally out there. They met regularly at his house."

"Maybe it was Constance that went out to meet him." Bret just tossed it out casually.

"I thought you were with her that day," I reminded him.

"Nope. There was a couple hours where she was out and I stayed at Pete's. Plenty of time for her to drive out to Farrel's place and confront Simmons."

There was something bothering me. "But why? To tell him to leave June alone? That wasn't gonna do any good. And it still leaves the question of who beat Rally."

"And the question of who tried to kill you."

I scratched my head. This was giving us more questions and still no answers. "Have you seen Connie's books? How's the saloon doing?"

"Hmmm. Not as well as it used to, ever since the Lady opened. Say, who owns The Gilded Lady, anyway?"

That was another good question, one I didn't have an answer for. "I can probably find out . . . . when I go back to play poker. Surely the group knows."

"Simmons must know, too. Maybe that's got somethin' to do with his 'accident'."

"Maybe. See if it was Constance that drove out towards the Bar J and confronted Rally."

"Alright. Meantime you sit tight just where you are. Let the wound heal, for once."

"You're one to talk. What about your arm?" Bret had lost that sling awfully fast, and he'd said nothing about it in the past two days.

"Brother Bart, it was not much more than a scratch. Doc put a sling on it just to keep me from usin' it. I coulda done without it. You sleepin' right there?"

"For tonight. Tomorrow I'll try the other room. You gonna leave?"

"Yeah, I'm tired. You gettin' shot messed up my beauty sleep. Anything ya need before I go?"

"The hole in my back fixed. You got any ideas?"

Bret rested his hand on my shoulder. "Nope, son, not much I can do in that department. You be alright here?"

I nodded. My eye felt better than it had that morning. "You comin' by in the mornin'?"

Bret laughed. "Yeah. My idea of mornin', not yours. You be good, you hear? No more bullets?"

"Where am I gonna go?" I asked him, and when he got to the door I told him, "You be careful."

"I will." And he was gone.

XXXXXXXX

It was a restless night, and I didn't hear Maggie when she came home from work. I woke up about an hour later, to the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee. Maggie brought a cup over as soon as she saw I was awake.

"Morning, Bart. How'd you sleep last night?"

"Not as good as I should have. Back kept wakin' me up all night."

"You should have used the bedroom."

"How'd your first full night go?"

"We were busy. A lot of drunk cowboys with nothing better to do than eat in the middle of the night. Your poker buddies came in and I told them what happened. Calvin wanted me to tell you to be sure and get well, he didn't want to see your ugly face at his place anytime soon."

"Calvin's the only man I know that doesn't want business," I told her. "I guess I could – "

"No, you can't. Remember what Doc Demmers told you about taking it easy for a while."

"I can't take up all your time, and I'll go crazy just sittin' here."

"Bret came by the café after he left here. He brought me some reading material to give you." I hadn't noticed it before, but two books were sitting on the table next to the settee – Momma's Bible and Dickens' last novel, _'The Mystery of Edwin Drood.'_ "You read the Bible?"

"I always have," I answered as Maggie brought my breakfast over to me. "It was our Momma's. She taught us how to read from that Bible. I almost lost it in a fire once, and Bret had it for a while. I'm glad to have it back."

"And Dickens?"

"Everything of his I can get my hands on."

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"No, ma'am, I'm just a simple country boy."

She was trying her best not to laugh. "Alright, simple country boy, let's take a look at those stitches."

XXXXXXXX

I stayed there for a week before Doc would release me to return to both my hotel room and poker. Bret had no luck when it came to getting information from Constance regarding her identity as the woman Rally Simmons encountered on the day of his beating. Joe Mercer came to visit on his day off and begged me to hurry and return to the poker game. "It's no fine without ya, Bart. Those other dolts just have no sense of humor."

Maggie and I fell into a comfortable pattern. I stayed awake most nights and read until she came home from work; then she'd make breakfast, we'd eat, and get some sleep in. After two or three days we were curling up together and sleeping in the same bed. It felt good to have her in my arms, even though all we did was sleep. Maggie would be someone's wife one day and I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that.

It wasn't gonna be near as pleasant to go back to sleeping in the same bed with my brother, but the morning we went to see the Doc I was more than ready to get on with my life. I was surprised to find that Doc had released Rally to June, and she'd moved into his house to take care of him. I bet Bret had his hands full with Constance the day that happened, although he said nothing about it to me.

Doc was pleased enough with my progress that he gave the go-ahead for me to resume whatever it was I wanted to resume, within reasonable limits. Maggie and I went back to the general store to re-stock everything we'd gone through since our last visit, but I arranged to have it delivered later that day. Sammy Miller had sold the store to Ethan Wilson via telegram (thank God those still went through) and Wilson now had his son working for him as a delivery boy. Out of respect for Tom Miller he left the name of the store unchanged.

Bret came to the house and helped move my things back to the hotel, and I bid a temporary 'goodbye' to Maggie. I would miss her cooking; the peaceful days spent sleeping together, and Maggie. The inactivity I was more than anxious to get rid of.

I walked back to Pete's with Bret and was glad to sit down when we got there. Constance was in her office working and seemed pleased to see me, even coming out front to say hello and invite us back in for coffee. Patience has never been one of my virtues, and true to form I plunged right in, despite Bret's pleas to take it slow. I was tired of taking it slow and wanted some answers.


	25. Revelations and Negotiations

Chapter 25 – Revelations and Negotiations

"So, Constance, I heard that June and Rally Simmons are engaged. I thought you didn't want your sister to marry him." Bret shot me a look that I ignored, and Constance never batted an eye.

"I didn't. I thought Mr. Simmons was just after her money."

I pushed on. "Have you changed your mind?"

Connie smiled as she replied. "Let's just say I'm willing to take another look at the situation."

Bret finally spoke up. "Why is that, Constance?"

For the first time she hesitated. "Things . . . . . . things have changed somewhat."

"You mean because June's moved in with Rally?" I saw a small opening and I took it.

"Not exactly."

I waited to see if I got anything else. When Connie continued sipping coffee quietly, I made my move. "What did you and Rally talk about when you caught him out at Farrel's property line?"

Connie almost choked. "Whatever gave you that idea? Bret, what is Bart talking about? You were here with me all day, tell him."

Bret moved in for the truth. "You were seen with Rally that day, Constance. Remember, you had your office door closed most of the afternoon. I was tryin' to play one-handed poker."

She looked at Bret and something changed in her eyes. Her voice was quieter, softer, and full of regret. "Alright, I did catch Rally out at the Farrel's. I wanted one more chance to try and talk him out of seeing June. It didn't work."

Something was going on between the two of them and I wasn't sure what it was. Trust? Friendship? I couldn't imagine that Bret was in love with Constance; he was still mourning the loss of Althea. Respect? Mutual dependence? Whatever it was, I was going to try my best to take advantage of it. "Is that all there was, Connie? Just talk about June?"

"No."

"What else?"

"No. Nothing."

"What else, Connie? What aren't you telling us?

"No . . . . . no . . . . . nothing . . . . . . no."

"Come on, Connie, the truth."

"I . . . . . I can't. I can't."

"It isn't gonna go away until you talk about it."

"No. . . . . . I can't. It's so awful . . . . . I can't.

Bret asked her then, "What did you do, Constance?"

Suddenly Connie's head was in her hands and she was almost sobbing. "There was . . . . . there was . . . . oh God, I didn't mean for there to be . . . . . but he wouldn't . . . . . and then I couldn't . . . . . . and I just reached for it . . . . . . and he wouldn't answer me . . . . . and I . . . . . I just . . . . . . I just hit him with it. And I couldn't stop . . . . . . even when he . . . . .when he went down. And I kept hitting him . . . . . and then he didn't move . . . . . and I kept on . . . . . . I kept on hitting him with it . . . . . until . . . . . until I couldn't anymore . . . . and after that . . . . . I left him . . . . . I just left him there."

Bret and I looked at each other; then he moved around the desk and took her in his arms and let her sob until she couldn't any longer. I just sat there, stunned beyond belief. I hadn't for a moment expected what we'd just heard; a confession from Constance Morgan that she was the one responsible for nearly beating Rally Simmons to death.

XXXXXXXX

I don't know how much time passed before Connie calmed down enough to talk to us. Not much in this world shocks me anymore; what she'd just choked out qualified. I'd been so convinced that the punishment inflicted on Rally had to be perpetrated by a man that I'd never for one moment considered a woman capable of it. From the way Bret reacted, he was about three steps ahead of me on this one.

I went out to the bar and brought back brandy and a glass, which I poured half-full and handed to my brother. He got some of it down her, and it seemed to settle her a bit. Enough that the hiccuping and coughing abated and the three of us were left sitting there, wondering what to do next.

"Can you talk about it calmly now?" Bret asked.

"I . . . . . I honestly don't know," Constance answered. "I'll try."

"Did you go out there intendin' to hurt Simmons?"

A shake of the head. "No." She took another swallow of the brandy but continued to sit there with Bret's arms around her, almost as if he was protecting her from herself – or the truth.

"Tell us what happened, Connie."

She swallowed and started. "I went out there because I wanted to put a stop to him and June. I was sure he was after her money. I caught up with him right at the edge of the Farrel's property. He wouldn't even talk to me at first like there was something else on his mind and he couldn't deal with me just then. I kept talking, and talking, and yelling, and I picked up the whip and threatened to hit him if he didn't answer me. I don't know if he didn't hear me or just ignored me . . . . . and I then hit him. And still he said nothing."

"Then what happened?" Bret prompted her.

"I kept hitting him. He wouldn't talk to me. Why wouldn't he talk to me? And . . . . . I . . . . . just . . . . kept . . . . . . hitting . . . . . . him. Even after he collapsed and fell out of the buggy. I just . . . . . I just . . . . . ."

Bret got Connie to take the rest of the glass of brandy before he looked at me. Connie started crying again, not hysterically this time, just softly and quietly, and Bret gave her his handkerchief.

"What do we do now?" I asked, not expecting any kind of an answer but hoping for one.

"I think we should all go see Rally Simmons," my brother replied, and after a moment or two, I agreed with him.

XXXXXXXX

It was an odd-looking procession we made, me walking first followed by Constance and Bret, with his arm tightly around her shoulders supporting her. Fortunately, there was no one on the street save for a cowboy on a ratty-looking bay mare, and he paid no attention at all to us. Rally's house sat on the second street behind Main Street and seemed to be a pleasant enough place. It wasn't big and grand, just a well-maintained home of average size. I stepped back and let Bret walk Constance to the front door, which was answered by a Mexican housekeeper. She ushered us into a small parlor and went scurrying off, presumably to the bedrooms, and in just a moment June Morgan appeared.

June looked at Bret, and the grip he had on her sister, and then her eyes wandered to me. I smiled to try and reassure her and Bret finally spoke. "June, we need to see Rally. Alone."

I reached out and took hold of June's hand. "They just need to see him about a financial matter, June. I'll stay out here with you if you'd like." That seemed to allay any fears June might have, and she disappeared behind the bedroom door again. She was back out in a few minutes and held the door open for Bret and Connie, who went inside and closed the door behind them. I took June's hand again and we walked back into the parlor, where she watched me intently. "They're not here to cause trouble for you or Rally," I told her. "Constance needs to discuss something with him. That's all, honey. Everything will be fine."

June gave me one of her "If you say so," smiles and we sat without talking for almost thirty minutes. June had a death grip on my hand the entire time, but that was the only indication that she was worried or upset. Finally the bedroom door opened and Connie emerged, with Bret right behind her. There was a small smile on my brother's face and Constance looked more 'settled' than she had when they went in.

When they got to the parlor, Constance reached for June's hand and she released her iron grip on me. "I didn't mean to worry you, honey," Connie told her sister. "I had to talk to Rally about something. It's all settled now. I understand you have a wedding to plan, and I hope you'll let me help you. I was wrong to stand in your way, and I told Rally that very thing. I hope you can forgive me."

The biggest smile I'd ever seen spread across June's face. It was quite a change to see her so happy. "I can. I will. I do. Forgive you, I mean. If Rally's fine with it, then I am too." She pulled away from Constance and rushed over to me, planting a big kiss on my cheek. "I was right about you, Bart Maverick. You're nice."

I left then, and Bret followed after, holding Connie's hand. Once we were back out on the street Bret mouthed 'Later' to me and I nodded my head. I needed to hear the rest of this before I passed judgement on whatever had been negotiated in the Simmons bedroom.


	26. Free

Chapter 26 – Free

We'd been here already today, sitting in Connie's office and trying to determine the truth. What kind of deal had Constance made with Rally Simmons to assure that he wouldn't turn her in to Dan Manning and a potentially long prison sentence?

On the way back here Bret had asked me to be patient, promising he'd explain 'later'. I was still waiting and it was definitely later. My patience only extended so far.

"What did you have to promise, Constance?" I finally asked when I could stand it no longer.

She was considerably steadier than she'd been just a few short hours ago. "We settled on a mutually beneficial arrangement," she finally told me. "I stop making life difficult for Rally and June, and Rally doesn't tell the sheriff what actually happened. And I buy June's half of the saloon for a fair price."

"That's all?" I asked. Knowing Rally like the good poker player that he was, I expected there to be something more to the deal.

"And I agreed to settle his debt with Johnny Farrel."

Ah, there it was. Did Connie really know what she'd gotten herself into? "What do you know about that? What did Rally tell you, I mean?"

About that time Bret spoke up. "Connie understands the debt."

That was brother speak for 'don't say anything else.' Connie might not have completely understood the bargain she'd made, but Bret did. I reached over and slapped Bret on the arm. "I'm starved. How about some lunch, Brother Bret?"

He smiled at me and that twinkle was back in his eye. "I think that's a fine idea, Brother Bart. What say Minnie's in thirty minutes?"

"Sure," I nodded. "Sounds good to me. I'll meet you there. Miss Constance, may your day continue to improve." I tipped my hat and left the office and the saloon. I know when I've been asked to leave and allow for some private time. Unfortunately as I walked out into the crisp, cold air I saw trouble fast approaching, in the form of Sheriff Dan.

"Maverick. Just the man I wanted to see."

"Sheriff, I'm on my way to Minnie's to meet my brother. Walk with me?"

Manning nodded and we headed down the street. "You two always this close?" he asked as we hurried to get out of the cold.

"Yep," I told him. 'Why'd you ask?"

"Just wonderin'. Say, I got a telegram this mornin'. From the marshal in Shreveport. Everett Richards and his right-hand man are dead. Got killed in a robbery attempt in Natchez. The reward on your two 'friends' has been upped to two thousand dollars each, to be paid by the State of Mississippi. They wanna end this outlaw gang once and fer all. And by the way, Jed and Dickie ain't been seen anywhere since we got snowed in."

"So what're you tellin' me, Sheriff?"

"Yer a smart boy. Figure it out for yerself. Good-day, Mr. Maverick." The sheriff tipped his hat and made a turn into the gun store. I finished the walk to Minnie's alone, pondering the information that I'd just been given. Was it possible that Jed and Dickie were actually in Sioux Falls and had been all along, just biding their time until the snow melted and there was a way out? Or was Manning just trying to give me something to worry about?

If that was his sole purpose, it worked. I sat in the warmth of Minnie's Café and drank coffee, deliberating the likelihood that Jed and Dickie were here in Sioux Falls. That would certainly explain who'd shot me. But somehow it didn't fit, and it still didn't explain the other body that Manning had found, Bobby Durfee. I had an idea, but I needed some proof before I pursued that particular path.

XXXXXXXX

Several weeks had passed before Rally Simmons and June Morgan finally got married. It wasn't as cold as it had been outside for months, and the sun was actually visible in the sky. It wouldn't be too much longer before the snow that blocked our exit from this town for an extended period melted enough for the stage to get through with our reward money. And as soon as that happened, Bret and I could leave and head anywhere we wanted.

Rally still limped, and the scars on his face hadn't completely healed, but he was the happiest bridegroom I'd seen in a long time. I was given the honor of walking the bride down the aisle, and I thought it would serve as good practice for Jody's wedding, if it ever actually happens.

After the ceremony in the church Constance held a gigantic reception at Pete's, and she even talked Bret and me into serving as bartenders for the event. Constance and Rally truly seemed to have settled their differences, and while we wouldn't ever be best friends, Rally and I had found a kind of relationship, too. Maybe it was because we understood each other; maybe it was because he'd discovered he could trust me to keep my word. For whatever reason, it was far better than the original animosity we'd had for each other.

The reception provided me with a way back into the Farrel's lives, and I took full advantage of it. When Johnny came to the bar for another drink, I made sure that I served him. "How's Mrs. Farrel?" I asked him, and I got a look that wasn't too pleased from him. "Done anything about replacing Bobby Durfee as your hired gun . . . . . oops, I mean foreman, yet?"

Farrel picked up his drink and walked away. I was sure that I'd rattled him enough to hear from him again, and I was right. Later that afternoon when the saloon was almost empty he reappeared. "That was a clever little trick you pulled on Clara. You got any more up your sleeves?"

"Sure, plenty of em. Wanna see one?"

Farrel stood there and looked at me and for just a moment I wondered if I'd been wrong. Then he bought into my scam hook, line, and sinker. "Okay, cardsharp, let's see what ya got."

I'd borrowed something from Dan Manning just for this very occasion. I pulled out Bobby Durfee's very distinctive pearl handled Colt and set it on the bar. "That's Bobby's gun, used to shoot Tom Miller."

Johnny didn't say anything, but he was watching me carefully. Then from under the bar I grabbed my other surprise. "And that's your gun, used to kill Bobby." Actually the gun was mine, a spare that I kept just in case, but it looked enough like the one found next to Durfee's body that it was difficult to tell the difference. I'd gotten a good look at the actual murder weapon when I went to talk to Sheriff Manning and proposed this little test of my theory. "You the one that tried to kill me?" I asked.

I got an answer I hadn't expected. "Yep. Almost got ya, too. "

I might as well go as far with Johnny as I had with Constance. "Gonna try again?"

His answer came back just as swiftly. "Nope. Next time I'm gonna succeed."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I know, I know, I had somebody that was intent on killing me. The good news was I only had ONE somebody that was intent on killing me, and not two. And he hadn't paid any attention to the fact that Manning was standing within hearing distance and had overheard the entire exchange. By the time Farrel turned around to leave the bar the sheriff had his gun drawn and cocked and Rally Simmons and I were both free men. Sort of.


	27. Branded

Chapter 27 – Branded

Two or three more weeks passed and it became evident that the only route into or out of Sioux Falls was almost passable. I'd been waiting nervously for that to happen, knowing full well and good that Jed and Dickie were out there somewhere, looking for my head on a platter. So I had mixed emotions about spring and being able to leave Sioux Falls.

And then there was Maggie Sawyer. Maggie and I were as involved as ever, and I'd gotten almost as attached to her as I had to Jody, our 'adopted' sister, who's really our cousin. Of course, I had different feelings for Maggie than Jody, but I wasn't about to act on them. Still, I was going to miss the warmth and closeness we shared.

It became evident to me that Bret had feelings of some kind for Constance, and if they weren't romantic feelings they were sure close to it. Maybe if his failed relationship with Althea Taylor hadn't been so fresh in his mind, those feelings might have gone farther. Even so, I knew Bret was as ready to go as I was.

I was on my way back to the hotel one morning when I got that feeling again, the one I hadn't had for quite a while – the one that made me think someone was watching me. I stopped and stood still for a minute, straining to hear anything other than normal, early morning sounds, and when I didn't I resumed walking. I'd gone about another twenty feet when I stopped to light a cigar and heard something I hadn't heard before – the distinctive jingle of a pair of spurs. The kind of spurs that Jed had worn when I encountered him in a previous life.

I quickly got rid of the cigar and pulled my gun out of its holster, but before I could turn around there was a gun barrel in my back and a familiar yet unpleasant voice in my ear. "Didn't think we'd forget about ya, did ya?" It was Jed Hightower. "I've spent all winter thinkin' about the things I'm gonna get to do to make ya tell us where the money is, Maverick. You're not still hangin' on to that story about turnin' it in the marshal in Shreveport, are ya?"

"Sorry, Jed, that's exactly what I did. Believe me, if I had it, I'd give it to ya." I was supposed to meet Bret back in the room to see if it was possible to make it through the pass yet. If it was, the stage with the reward on it could be here as early as next week. When I didn't show, would he think to come looking for me? And would it be too late by that time?

"Yeah, sure ya would. Alright, hand me the gun. Now, let's go. Straight ahead and right at the buildin' past the hotel. Dickie's already there waitin' for ya." Jed shoved the gun further into my back and pushed me forward. We walked past the hotel and I did as told, turned right at the next building. That led to an alley that ran back to the next street, and we hadn't gone far when Jed directed me to an old, boarded up building. The door opened and I got to take another look at Dickie, who appeared more disgruntled than ever, besides having grown a full beard. He was almost drooling, he seemed so eager to start beating on me. Wherever you were, Bret, hurry!

"Ya found him!" Dickie practically cackled as Jed hustled me inside.

"Of course I found him, ya numbskull. Did ya think I'd come back without 'em?"

"You still singin' that same tune, Maverick?"

"You mean the one that says I turned the money in? I wish I didn't have to."

I swear, Dickie rubbed his hands together in anticipation. How's that for scaring the life out of you?

Jed pointed me at a chair sitting on one side of the room. "Sit down, Maverick, and put yer hands behind ya. Unless you wanna tell us where the money is?"

"I told ya, Jed, I turned it in months ago to the marshal in Shreveport. Do you think I'd let you beat on me again if I had another answer?" I was trying to stall them as long as I could to give Bret more time to figure out something had happened to me.

"Oh, shut up," Dickie proclaimed as he tied me to the chair. Just like last time, I tried to work my hands so that the rope wasn't as tight as it should be; unfortunately, it seems they'd caught on to that little trick. Dickie took the hat from my head and plunked it down on his own. "Such a nice hat," he told me just before back-handing me. Damn, that hurt. I turned my head and spat out blood. What was Jed doing on the other side of the room?

He moved a few inches to the left and quite suddenly I could see what he was up to, and it wasn't good. On the dirt floor he had a nice little fire going, and sitting right in the middle of it, getting red-hot, was a branding iron. I closed my eyes and swallowed. I knew what that was for without asking.

While I sat there contemplating how much that was gonna hurt and all the places I didn't want him to put it, I heard a bird singing outside. It took me a minute to realize that, while the snow was beginning to melt, it still wasn't spring and that was no bird, it was my brother. Now the question became - which would get there first, Bret or the branding iron?

"Get him ready, Dickie," Jed called over his shoulder, and Dickie pulled my coat open, then ripped my shirt front apart. That answered the question of where Jed was gonna put it.

' _Oh God, Bret, get here in a hurry,'_ I thought, and squeezed my eyes shut again. I sat there braced for the searing pain that never came. Everything went dead quiet for just a minute and I could smell the branding iron.

Just when I was sure I was gonna know what it felt like to be branded and no longer a maverick, Bret's voice broke the silence. "If you touch him with that, Hightower, it's your turn next. Put it back in the fire and drop the gun. You too, Smithfield, we've got ya surrounded."

I had no idea if there were twenty men with him or he was alone, but he sounded serious to me. Jed lunged with the branding iron and I tipped the chair over on the ground as fast as I could. A shot rang out and Jed dropped to the ground, the branding iron hissing harmlessly as it landed on the dirt floor. Dickie wisely dropped his gun and put his hands in the air, and I looked up as Bret and Dan Manning came through the front door.

"You could have gotten here a few minutes sooner," I told my brother for the second time in my life. He was laughing as he walked across the dirt floor and bent down to lift the chair back upright and untie me.

"I did my best, Brother Bart, I did my best." And just like the first time we'd both said those words, on the third step of the gallows they'd built just for me in Silver Creek, Montana, we embraced and laughed.

XXXXXXXX

"I've got good news and bad news for ya, boys," Dan Manning told us three days later as we sat in his office waiting for the stage to arrive. The pass was finally open and to our immense relief, that stage was supposed to be on the way in.

Bret and I exchanged glances and both sighed at the same time. Why was there always bad news along with the good news? "Alright, Dan, let's hear it," Bret finally said.

"The state of Mississippi has approved the four-thousand-dollar reward for Hightower and Smithfield."

"Is that the good news?" I asked. Sheriff Manning nodded.

"And the bad news?" Bret asked.

"You have to go to Natchez to claim the reward." Manning was smiling. "And the five thousand six hundred dollar reward Wells Fargo owes you has been wired to Natchez, too."

"I don't . . . . . "

"I can't . . . . . ."

"You can't both talk at the same time," the sheriff stated.

I looked at Bret and nodded. "Why the change?" my brother asked.

"Don't know."

We traded glances. There was no debate. "Looks like we're goin' to Natchez," I told Bret.

"Yep. South'll be a nice change," he answered, and we both shivered. It was about time we got to a warmer climate. I know what you're gonna say. Sioux Falls was my choice. Yep, that's right. But I didn't expect to be here for almost five months.

"When's everything gonna be available to us, did they tell you?" was my last question.

"After the first of next month," Manning answered. Today was March Twenty-fifth.


	28. Black Silk

Chapter 28 – Black Silk

I spent two days with Maggie Sawyer and as far as I know, Bret spent those same two days with Constance Morgan. The morning of March twenty-eighth I was in our little-used hotel room packing when Bret arrived to do the same thing. "You ready for Natchez?" I asked him, and he didn't hesitate.

"You bet I am."

"How's Constance?"

"Ready to get on with her life. And Maggie?"

"Probably glad I'm leavin'."

I picked up the coat that had kept me from freezing all winter. "I'll be happy when I can get rid of this thing."

"You an me both, son."

"What are we gonna do with all that money?" I asked him.

"Buy some new clothes," Bret laughed. Wasn't that the truth? We'd both put a dent in our wardrobes while we were here.

"Black silk," I said, and Bret looked at me. "I want a black silk waistcoat. I've never had one."

"Well by all means, get one. That does sound kinda fancy."

"No, no, no," I answered. "You've never worn a black waistcoat in your life."

"I know. Time for a change. I feel like . . . . . . . throwin' caution to the wind."

"I feel like you've lost yer mind. What has gotten into you, Brother Bret?"

He shook his head. "Don't know. Maybe it's just gettin' older. Maybe it's . . . . . I don't know."

Funny, he couldn't put it into words, and neither could I. Something was pushing us on, something that hadn't been there before. Maybe it was , , , , , , well, I didn't understand it any more than my brother did. I just knew it was time for a change.

I'd bid adieu to the poker group last night, to Maggie this morning. I'd miss them all, but not enough to make me want to stay. Whatever it was that kept us moving on, kept us playing poker and traveling around the country, had reared its head again and demanded all my attention. And I was gonna do my level best to accommodate it. Wherever it took me.

Coming Next - Black Silk Ladies


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